Tag Archives: Reflection

Poetry: Good Timber

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease:
The stronger wind, the stronger trees;
The further sky, the greater length;
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth,
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.

By Douglas Malloch

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Beauty of Poetry: Take My Horse and Slaughter It

ohorsecrop

You, and not my craze with conquest, are my wedding.
I left to myself and its match in your devil self
the freedom to comply with your demands,
take my horse
and slaughter it,
and I will walk like a warrior after defeat
without dream or sense …
Salaam upon what you desire of fatigue
for the captive prince, and of gold for the maidens
to celebrate the summer. And salaam upon you
abounding with suitors of every jinn and man,
for what you’ve done to yourself for
yourself: your hairpin breaks
my shield and my sword,
and your shirt button bears in its glare
the secret word of birds of every sort,
take my breath the way a guitar responds
to what you demand of the wind. All of my Andalus
is within your hands, so don’t leave a single string
for self-defense in the land of my Andalus.
I will realize, in another time,
I will realize that I have won with my despair
and that I have found my life, over there
outside itself, near my past
take my horse
and slaughter it, and I will carry myself dead and alive,
by myself…

خذي فرسي ….. واذبحيها
ل محمود درويش

خذي فرسي ….. واذبحيها

أَنتِ لا هَوَسي بالفتوحات , عُرْسي
تَرَكْتُ لنفسي و أقرانها من شياطين نفسِكِ
حُريَّةَ الامتثال لما تطلبين ,
خُذي فَرسي
واُذبحيها ,
لأَمشي مثلَ المُحَارِبِ بَعْدَ الهزيمةِ
من غيْرِ حُلم وحسِّ …
سلاماً ما تُريدين من تَعبٍ
للأَمير الأسير ومن ذهبٍ لاحتفال
الوصيفات بالصيف . أَلْفَ سلام عَلَيْكِ
جميعك حافلةً بالمُريدين من كُلِّ جنِّ وإنسِ ,
سلاماً نفسك : دَبُّوسُ شَعْرِكِ يكسر
سيفي وتُرْسي
وزرُّ قميصك يحمل في ضَوْئه
لفظةَ السرِّ للطير من كُلِّ جنسِ ,
خُذي نَفَسِي أَخْذَ جيتارَةٍ تستجيبُ
لما تطلبين من الريح . أَندلسي كُلُّها
في يديك , فلا تَدَعي وَتَراً واحداً
للدفاع عن النفس في أَرْض أَندَلُسِي
سوف أُدرك , في زمن آخر ,
سوف أدرك أَني انتصرتُ بيأسي
وأَني وجدت حياتي , هنالك
خارجها , قرب أَمي
خذي فَرسي
واُذبحيها , لأَحمل نفسيَ حيّاً ومَيْتاً ,
بنفسي…

By Mahmoud Darwish