Identity Card
         by Mahmoud Darwish
         
Record!
I am an Arab
and my identity card is number 
                        fifty thousand
I have eight children
and the ninth
                        is coming in midsummer
Will you be angry!
         
Record!
I am an Arab
a stonecutter at a quarry.
I have eight children
I must get bread,
garments 
and books
from the rocks --
                        I do not supplicate
                        charity at your doors
Nor do I belittle myself 
at the footsteps 
of your chamber
So will you be angry?
         
Record!
I am an Arab
The color of my hair - is black
The color of my eyes - is brown
And my distinctive features:
                        The head-dress is kuffiya, hatta wi'gal
                        And the hand is solid 
                        like a rock
My favorite meal
is olive oil and zatar
And my address:
                        a village - isolated and deserted
                        where the streets 
                        have no names
        where the men work
        in the fields and quarries
Will you be angry?
         
Record! 
I am an Arab
without a name - without title
patient in a country
with people enraged
My roots - 
                        were entrenched before the 
                        birth of time
                        and before the opening of
                        the eras
                        before the olive trees, 
                        the pines, the grass
My father descends from the family of the plow
        not from the privileged class
And my grandfather 
was a farmer
                        neither well bred 
                        nor well born
And my house -
                        is like a watchman's hut
                        made of branches and cane
This is my status
Does it satisfy you?
I have a name but no title.
         
Record!!
I am an Arab
You have stolen the orchards
of my ancestors and the land
which I cultivated
along with my children
You've left nothing for my children
                        except those rocks
But I've heard
You'll take away
Even the rocks.
         
Therefore!
Record on top of first page
I do not hate man
Nor do I encroach
But if I become hungry
The usurper's flesh will be my food
Beware - Beware - of my hunger
and my anger!