No walls to the Cell

No walls to the Cell

Mahmoud Darwish Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. As usual My cell saved me from death, From the rust of intellect and being outwitted By a spent idea. On its ceiling I found the face of my freedom, The orange grove And the names of those who yesterday lost their names On the soil of battlefields. Now I shall confess- How beautiful is confession! So don’t feel sad on Sunday But tell the village folk: We’re putting off the wedding party Tell the beginning of the next year. The birds flee from my grasp And the star recedes from me, the jasmine too, And the number of those dancing grows less Any your voice wilts before its time. Yet my cell, As usual, Have saved me from death. My cell- On its ceiling I found the face of my freedom And upon its wall your forehead glowed. Zajel / An-Najah National University