According to a great many media reports, there is news that Mahmoud Darwish has died.
His work graced the pages of Poetry back in December 2005; Harriet readers may recall Daisy Fried’s recent Harriet post, “Questions for Fady Joudah”, in which Joudah talks about his work.
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A selection of new work from Dorothea Grossman; new poems by Lavinia Greenlaw, David Yezzi, A.E. Stallings, Gerald Stern, and Dan Gerber; translations of Carlo Betocchi, and Mahmoud Darwish; an Editorial on Ruth Lilly; an exchange between Ilya Kaminsky and Adam Kirsch; an essay by Chen Li; and a review by Daisy Fried.
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I agree with you, Mr. Share, about Daisy Fried’s interview,
Posted By: Brian Salchert on August 9, 2008 at 10:28 pmand with your comment about Fady Joudah.
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Darwish’s narrative/documentary (Memory for Forgetfulness) remains one of the most powerful apprehensions of the brutality of a homeland under siege. Israelis? Palestinians? PLO? Western Powers? Whatever. In that book. One man. A cigarette. Holding it together in the nerve-shattering chaos of nothing holding together. Reminds me of Semezdin Mehmedinovic’s extraordinary Sarajevo Blues–a world under siege by, who else, thugs. Anyway, much love in memory of this fine man.
Posted By: dale Smith on August 11, 2008 at 12:42 amReport this comment
To You Mahmood:
Posted By: Sam Kuraishi on August 12, 2008 at 9:51 pmHe Had his words
tied in a ribbon;
they came to his life
and cut the wrapping.
Words were left
on the sidewalk of destiny
swept by the bustling wind
like autumn leaves.
For what he said
in what he believed,
was an agony,
but he was too strong with his afflictions.
He wrote his own fate
with his own words,
and his shadow was the reflection
of his own body.
The try to slash his own words,
but they couldn’t slaughter his spirit
for his spirit is free,
and his words are “verse libre.”
Sam Kuriashi
Chicago, Illinois, U.SA.
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