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| Mahmoud Darwish |
As a part of its continuing effort to share a portion of the literary wealth of Arabic poetry with the English reader, The Arab American News translates a poem by the legendary Palestinian poet Mahmoud Darwish.
I do not know the stranger
I do not know the stranger, nor his accomplishments…
I saw a funeral, so I walked behind the coffin,
like the others, bowing my head in respect.
I found no reason to ask: who is this stranger?
Where did he live, and how did he die,
because the causes of death are many,
one of which is the pain of life.
I asked myself: does he see us,
or does he see nothingness and regrets the end?
I knew he would not open the coffin that’s covered
with lavender
to bid us farewell and thank us and mutter the truth.
What is the truth?
Perhaps he is like us in these moments,
folding his shadow.
But he is the only one who did not cry this morning,
and did not see the death that is flying over
us like a hawk…
The living are the cousins of death,
and the dead are sleeping
quietly and quietly and quietly.
And I found no reason to ask:
Who is this stranger and what is his name.
No sparkles shine in his name.
The march behind him was 20 people,
except me.
And I became lost in my heart in front of the
church doors:
Perhaps he is a writer, or a laborer, or a refugee
or a thief or a murderer… No difference,
we are all equal in front of death…
They don’t talk,
and perhaps, they don’t dream.
This stranger’s funeral could be mine,
but a divine matter is postponing it
for many reasons,
one of which is: a big mistake in the poem!
— Translated from Arabic by Ali Harb
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