أَعطنا، يا حبّ، فَيْضَكَ كلَّه لنخوض حرب العاطفيين الشريفةَ، فالمناخ ملائم، والشمس تشحذ في الصباح سلاحنا، يا حبُّ لا هدفٌ لنا إلا الهزيمةَ في حروبك.. فانتصرْ أَنت ا… - Mahmoud Darwish

يا حُبّ ! لا هدفٌ لنا إلاّ الهزيمةَ في
حروبك... فانتصرْ أَنت انتصرْ, سَلِمَتْ
يداك! وَعُدْ إلينا خاسرين... وسالماً!

والقلب مهجورٌ، كبئرٍ جف فيها الماء

لابد من غائب للتخفيف من حملة المكان

My poems do not deliver mere images and metaphors; but deliver landscapes, villages and fields, deliver a place. It makes that which is absent from geography present in its form, that is, able to reside in the poetic text, as if residing on his land. I don’t think that a poet is entitled to a greater happiness than that some people seek refuge in his lines of poetry, as if they were real houses. Indeed, in Arabic, there is a nice and unusual homonymy. Both the poetic verse and the house are said “bayt.” As if a man can reside there.