الزنبقات السود في كفّــي ... و في شفتي ... اللهب من أي غاب جئتي يا كل صلبان الغضب ؟ بايعت أحزاني .. و صافحت التشرد و السغب غضب يدي .. غضب فمي ودماء أو… - Mahmoud Darwish

وأبي قال مرة:
الذي ماله وطن
ماله في الثرى ضريح
ونهاني عن السفر

Life to the last drop
If someone said to me again: ‘Supposing you were to die tomorrow, what would you do?’ I wouldn’t need any time to reply. If I felt drowsy, I would sleep. If I was thirsty, I would drink. If I was writing, I might like what I was writing and ignore the question. If I was having lunch, I would add a little mustard and pepper to the slice of grilled meat. If I was shaving, I might cut my earlobe. If I was kissing my girlfriend, I would devour her lips as if they were figs. If I was reading, I would skip a few pages. If I was peeling an onion, I would shed a few tears. If I was walking, I would continue walking at a slower pace. If I existed, as I do now, then I wouldn’t think about not existing. If I didn’t exist, then the question wouldn’t bother me. If I was listening to Mozart, I would already be close to the realms of the angels. If I was asleep, I would carry on sleeping and dream blissfully of gardenias. If I was laughing, I would cut my laughter by half out of respect for the information. What else could I do, even if I was braver than an idiot and stronger than Hercules?

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