quarta-feira, 7 de janeiro de 2009

State of Siege

Here there is no “I”.
Here Adam remembers the dust of his clay.
You who stand in the doorway, come in,
Drink Arabic coffee with us
And you will sense that you are men like us
You who stand in the doorways of houses
Come out of our morningtimes,
We shall feel reassured to be
Men like you!
The siege is a waiting period
Waiting on the tilted ladder in the middle of the storm.
Our losses: between two and eight martyrs each day.
And ten wounded.
And twenty homes.
And fifty olive trees…
Added to this the structural flaw that
Will arrive at the poem, the play, and the unfinished canvas.
In the state of siege, time becomes space
Transfixed in its eternity
In the state of siege, space becomes time
That has missed its yesterday and its tomorrow.
The siege will last in order to convince us we must choose an enslavement that does no harm, in fullest liberty!
My friends are always preparing a farewell feast for me,
A soothing grave in the shade of oak trees
A marble epitaph of time
And always I anticipate them at the funeral:
Who then has died…who?

Mahmoud Darwish, State of Siege (2003) - poema completo aqui
(autor da Declaração de Independência Palestiniana de 1988)

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