It is to avoid dying of starvation
that I chose the sand that separates us
which is no longer sand
no longer distance
which is an infinity of roots
summarizing the essence of an agreement
with myself, the first to be broken
secondly, we are all martyrs
It is the exact opposite of belly dancing
the man-sandwich dump
of biblical terrors
historical mistakes
distortions by consequence
barely visible in an armpit
that’s me
having built nothing, systematized nothing
they won’t fool me with the so-called be good and shut up
I don’t have to speculate on the dreams of dreamers
I don’t have to issue a certificate of collective death
of disappointed ambitions
I tell their father who is in the heavens or somewhere in a city
of Money
– their father, wherever you are
who gives each of them their daily Arabic
let them also know
that I hate their women and children
that I tear up the business cards of their best friends
that at the end of each root I have a rifle
and a will to live that turns into a nightmare
tell them in their ear or in Paris-Match
that in front of every Chosen People
there is the one who refuses to be chosen
for extermination
for some ridiculous idea
of a failed tourism minister
powerless and bloodthirsty
Abraham!
Place your bets, gentlemen the chiefs of staff
gentlemen the parliamentarians
and you too, lunatics of the moon
it is to avoid dying
democratically on a transistor
that I separate us
between us and your ideal cities
there is the deported workforce
GMT hours
impressionist paintings
ideological depressions
Too many books
and nights with a razor on our humanity of silence
I separate us, oppressed and oppressor, each on their side
greetings
to you
Yasser Arafat
[Originally appeared in Souffles, Special Issue 15, 3rd Quarter, 1969]
Translated from French by Aomar Boum