Mahmoud Darwish, one of the most celebrated and influential figures in contemporary Arabic literature, has been instrumental in reflecting the struggles, resilience, and Rich Cultural Heritage of the Palestinian people. Born on March 13, 1941 in the village of al-Birwa in Galilee, Darwish’s life was marked by displacement and exile that profoundly influenced his work. The loss of his village and homeland to Israeli forces deeply colored his poetry and prose, making him a voice of the Palestinian people’s collective memory, pain, and longing for their homeland.

Darwish’s literary contributions extend beyond being a poignant reflection of the Palestinian cause. He is recognized as a virtuoso who skillfully weaves intricate tapestries of words and metaphors, exploring universal themes such as love, loss, identity, and exile. His body of work encompasses more than thirty volumes of poetry and eight books of prose that have been translated into over twenty languages worldwide.

One of his most well-known poems, “Identity Card,” became an emblematic cry for Palestinian identity and resistance in the face of Israeli occupation. His later works also exhibit a profound exploration of personal and collective memory, linking Palestinian history to broader human experiences.

Mahmoud Darwish’s literary journey is an integral part of Palestinian heritage. His words have echoed across generations, stirring hearts and minds with their eloquence and emotional depth. His narratives transcend political boundaries, offering a poignant insight into the human condition under immense suffering. Darwish passed away in 2008, but his legacy continues to inspire and resonate with readers around the globe. His life and works stand testimony to the indomitable spirit of Palestine and its rich cultural heritage.

The Cypress Broke

                                 The cypress is the tree’s grief and not
                                 the tree, and it has no shadow because it is
                                 the tree’s shadow
                                       -Bassam Hajjar

The Cypress Broke like a minaret, and slept on
the road upon its chapped shadow, dark, green,
as it has always been. No one got hurt. The vehicles
sped over its branches. The dust blew
into the windshields … / The cypress broke, but
the pigeon in a neighboring house didn’t change
its public nest. And two migrant birds hovered above
the hem of the place, and exchanged some symbols.
And a woman said to her neighbor: Say, did you see a storm?
She said: No, and no bulldozer either … / And the cypress
broke. And those passing by the wreckage said:
Maybe it got bored with being neglected, or it grew old
with the days, it is long like a giraffe, and little
in meaning like a dust broom, and couldn’t shade two lovers.
And a boy said: I used to draw it perfectly,
its figure was easy to draw. And a girl said: The sky today
is incomplete because the cypress broke.
And a young man said: But the sky today is complete
because the cypress broke. And I said
to myself: Neither mystery nor clarity,
the cypress broke, and that is all
there is to it: the cypress broke!

-Mahmoud Darwish

Curated by Jennifer