* Shubbak al-tasareeh, or 'the permits window,' was the crossing point between the banks of the River Jordan, and has become a symbol of the humiliation endured by the Palestinian people under the Zionist regime.

My stance at the bridge,begging for passage.
Ah! Begging for passage.

My suffocation, my broken breath carried on the midday glare.
Seven hours of waiting.What clipped the wings of time? What broke the legs of noon?The heat lashes my forehead.

My sweat falls salt into my eyelashes. Ah! The thousands of eyes hung by the hot yearning
like mirrors of pain above "Shubak al Tasareeh".
Banners of waiting and patience.

Ah! We beg for passage.And the voice of a cross-bred soldier shouts
like a slap on the face of the crowd:
"Arabs! Mobs! Dogs! Go back!Stay back from the barrier! Go back dogs!" ..and a hand slams shut "Shubak al Tasareeh,"
barring the road from the face of the crowd.

Ah! My humanity bleeds.My heart drips bitterness.
My blood is poison and fire.
"Arabs! Mobs! Dogs!"
Ah! "Wa Mo'tassemah!" (I beseech you, Mo'tassem!)

Ah, my tribal revenge!
All I have today is waiting.
Who clipped the wings of time?
Who broke the legs of noon?

The heat lashes my forehead,
My sweat falls salt into my eyelashes.
Ah! My wound!
The executioner has taken my wound, and rubbed it in the mire.

I wish that Barraq had an eye..
Ah! The humility of the chains!
What a bitter plant I have become, my taste kills.
My rage is violent, and cuts deep to my roots. My heart is a rock, is sulphur,
is a mountain of fire.

There are a thousand "Hinds" under my skin.
The jaws of my hunger are open wide,
and nothing less than their livers will satisfy the hunger that lives in my skin.

Ah! My terrible rage! My terrible, blazing rage!
They have killed love inside me,
and have turned the blood in my veins into bitterness and tar.

Translation by Tuqan and Yousef Tuqan

(1)

Hamzeh was a simple man from my town,
like all the others.
A good man, who earns his bread through hard work,
like all good and simple folk.

He said to me one day, as I was wading in the wilderness of defeat: "Be steadfast.
Don't weaken, cousin.
This land that is harvested today by the fire of murder,
and that shrinks today in sadness and silence;
this land's assassinated heart, will stay alive and never die.

..... This land is a woman, and in the crevices and the wounds,
the secret of fertility is the same.
The power of the secret that springs forth palms and wheat
will spring forth the resistant people.

.... Days have gone by without meeting my cousin,
but I didn't know that the belly of the Earth was rising and moving with labor and a new birth

(2)

His 65 years became a heavy rock that weighed upon his shoulders
"Blow up the house!
And tighten the shackles on his son in the torture chamber!"
The town's governor gave his decree,

and then went on singing the meanings of love, security, and the dominance of peace.

.... The soldiers encircled the hems of the house,
and the snake recoiled, and skillfully completed the circle.
And in the air, there were some commanding bangs: "Evacuate the house."
Then, they were generous.

They allowed an hour or so

.... Hamzeh opened all the windows for the sun to come in,
under the eyes of the soldier.
And he called for prayer, and he shouted:
"Do not fear, Palestine.
I, and the house, and the children,
are the offerings of your salvation.
It is for you that we live and die."

There was a tremor in the nerves of the town,
as the echo returned the voice of Hamzeh,
and the house was shrouded in humility and silence.   

... One hour;
the martyred rooms of the house rose and fell,
and in it, the rubble of the rooms bent down,
enshrouding the cheers and the warmth that were,
and enfolding within their cloak, the harvest of a lifetime;
the memory of years of hard work; determination, tears and happy laughter.

... Yesterday, I met my cousin in the lane.
He was pushing his steps along the road with determination and certainty.
Hamzeh's forehead is still held high.

Translation by Tuqan and Yousef Tuqan