Sunday, February 14, 2010

If only the young were trees by Mahmoud Darwish

"The tree is sister to the tree, or its good neighbor. The big one is kind to the little one, giving it the shade it needs. The tall one is kind to the short one, sending it a bird to keep it company at night. No tree attacks the fruit of another tree, and if one tree is barren the other does not make fun of it. A tree does not attack another tree and does not imitate a woodcutter.
When a tree becomes a boat it learns to swim. When it becomes a door it continues to keep secrets. When it becomes a chair it does not forget the sky that was once above it. When it becomes a table it teaches the poet not to be a woodcutter.
The tree is forgiveness and vigilance. It neither sleeps nor dreams, but is entrusted with the secrets of the dreamers, standing guard night and day, showing respect to passers-by and to the heavens."

-Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008), A river dies of thirst (Diaries), 2009,

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