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# Those Who Pass Between Fleeting Words
- URL: https://www.merip.org/1988/09/those-who-pass-between-fleeting-words/
- Published: 1988-09-25T20:08:37.000Z
- Updated: 2025-07-29T12:35:20.000Z
- Description: O those who pass between fleeting words Carry your names, and be gone Rid our time of your hours, and be gone Steal what you will from the blueness of the sea and the sand of memory Take what pictures you will, so that you understand That which you never will: How a stone from our land builds the ce
- Author: Mahmoud Darwish
- Tags: MER Article, Poetry, #wp, #wp-post, Issue 154, #Articles

O those who pass between fleeting words  
 Carry your names, and be gone  
 Rid our time of your hours, and be gone  
 Steal what you will from the blueness of the sea and the sand of memory  
 Take what pictures you will, so that you understand  
 That which you never will:  
 How a stone from our land builds the ceiling of our sky.  
  
 O those who pass between fleeting words  
 From you the sword -- from us the blood  
 From you steel and fire -- from us our flesh  
 From you yet another tank -- from us stones  
 From you tear gas -- from us rain  
 Above us, as above you, are sky and air  
 So take your share of our blood -- and be gone  
 Go to a dancing party -- and be gone  
 As for us, we have to water the martyrs’ flowers  
 As for us, we have to live as we see fit.  
  
 O those who pass between fleeting words  
 As bitter dust, go where you wish, but  
 Do not pass between us like flying insects  
 For we have work to do in our land:  
 We have wheat to grow which we water with our bodies’ dew  
 We have that which does not please you here:  
 Stones or partridges  
 So take the past, if you wish, to the antiquities market  
 And return the skeleton to the hoopoe, if you wish,  
 On a clay platter  
 We have that which does not please you: we have the future  
 And we have things to do in our land.  
  
 O those who pass between fleeting words  
 Pile your illusions in a deserted pit, and be gone  
 Return the hand of time to the law of the golden calf  
 Or to the time of the revolver’s music!  
 For we have that which does not please you here, so be gone  
 And we have what you lack: a bleeding homeland of a bleeding people  
 A homeland fit for oblivion or memory  
 O those who pass between fleeting words  
 It is time for you to be gone  
 Live wherever you like, but do not live among us  
 It is time for you to be gone  
 Die wherever you like, but do not die among us  
 For we have work to do in our land  
 We have the past here  
 We have the first cry of life  
 We have the present, the present and the future  
 We have this world here, and the hereafter  
 So leave our country  
 Our land, our sea  
 Our wheat, our salt, our wounds  
 Everything, and leave  
 The memories of memory  
 O those who pass between fleeting words!  
  
 —Translation from the *Jerusalem Post*, April 2, 1988