The Olives Have Not Departed
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Lebanese poet, Ghassan Matar
Translation by As'ad AbuKhalil
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Lebanese poet, Ghassan Matar, wrote this poem (The Olives Have Not Departed) yesterday on the massacre of Qana (my translation):
"The Monster is hiding And Qana, the dark-skinned girl is sleeping by her grandmother dreaming of pretty butterflies and toys and flying in a field of olives she sits under a water wheel to lift up her hair, and she sees lighted grapes like tablets of gold, and she sees her father embedded in the rock embracing his rifle, and in his eyes are flags of dignity and rage, she gets scared, and wakes up, she seeks protection in her grandmother's arm, she tries to sleep, and before she falls asleep the planes raid, and the flesh sink in a sea of flames and fire only her shoe remains, she kissed it, and dipped it in her blood, and I threw it in the face of Arab rulers. They cut the bridges to you, did words arrive or did they prevent words from crossing I did not use to cry, but I bowed down before your wounds to pick up what splattered from incense and you whispered to me: "bullets did not make me bleed they cross from my veins to my homeland, what made me bleed are betrayal and debauchery" I don't own what can bandage, o you who are spotted on the forehead, I own the flames of love, will that suffice will it make you forget your wound? Or shall I also add the love of refugees who refuse the humiliation of those who loved the graves? Extend your hand to mine Between us are roads, valleys, and rivers and a land of wounds and light extend your hand and look how the processions are crossing toward your glory, the wounds are the bridges, olives have not gone, They extended their shade over the South and slept standing and said to those who asked: "This sand is my father, I was born at his hands and lived in it and my father stays here and he has not departed and has not abandoned his kids And I am here staying Maybe tomorrow a child who survived the wound of Qana will come. Who but me will direct him if he asks about his father"
Original
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