No one has ever been more proud of himself, or praised himself more than Mahmoud Darwish. When he woke up from one important surgery he had he wrote a long poem called "Mural" in it he says:
Oh death wait, and sit on the
chair. Take a glass of wine, and do not
negotiate with me, your likes do not negotiate
a human being, and my likes do not oppose the servant
of the unknown. Relax... you might have been tired this
day from the star war. Who am I
for you to visit me? Do you have time to test my poem.
No. This is not your business. You are responsible for
the dust in the human, not his deeds or words.
You were defeated, oh death, by all the arts.
You were defeated by the songs of Mesopotamia.
The Egyptian's Obelisk, the Pharaohs' graveyard
the engravings on the stones of a temple defeated you
and won, and from your trap, immortality escaped
so do with us, and with yourself what you want.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

do ya have pride? no shluck u don't have pride