An audio clip of me reciting a poem in Arabic, as requested. Due to my heavy homework load, I just did the whole thing in one quick take, so there are a few parts here and there that could certainly be better. But it’s there.
It’s a resistance poem by Rashid Hussein called “Without A Passport.” I really love this poem, but it was the first time I’ve read it aloud, so bear with me.
Here’s a rough English translation:
Without a passport
I was born
I grew up
I saw my country turn into prisons,
Without a passport.
So I sowed.
In every house I raised a country
Raised a sun
And wheat.
In every house, I nurtured trees.
I learned To write leaves of verse
To make the people of my village happy,
Happy, without a passport.
He whose land is stolen, I learned,
Has no love for the rain
And if he returns to it, he shall return home
Without a passport.
But I am tired of the minds that have turned
Into a single chain of motels for yearnings
That can’t give birth
Save with a passport.
Without a passport
I came to you
And rose against you.
So take me, slaughter me in return
Perhaps then I will feel myself dying
Dying, without a passport.
Now back to reading and writing about Hizballah for the rest of the night.
