نزار قباني

“Oh Jerusalem, the city of sorrowA big tear wandering in the eyeWho will halt the aggression?On you, the pearl of religions?Who will wash your bloody walls?Who will safeguard the Bible?Who will rescue the Quran?Who will save Christ, From those who have killed Christ?Who will save man?يا قدسُ، يا مدينةَ الأحزانيا دمعةً كبيرةً تجولُ في الأجفانمن يوقفُ العدوان؟عليكِ، يا لؤلؤةَ الأديانمن يغسل الدماءَ عن حجارةِ الجدران؟من ينقذُ الإنجيل؟من ينقذُ القرآن؟من ينقذُ المسيحَ ممن قتلوا المسيح؟من ينقذُ الإنسان؟”

“Don't love deeply, till you make sure that the other part loves you with the same depth, because the depth of your love today, is the depth of your wound tomorrow.”

“Had I told the seaWhat I felt for you,It would have left its shores,Its shells,Its fish,And followed me.”

“Jerusalem! My Love,My TownI wept until my tears were dryI prayed until the candles flickeredI knelt until the floor creakedI asked about Mohammed and ChristOh Jerusalem, the fragrance of prophetsThe shortest path between earth and skyOh Jerusalem, the citadel of lawsA beautiful child with fingers charredand downcast eyesYou are the shady oasis passed by the ProphetYour streets are melancholyYour minarets are mourningYou, the young maiden dressed in blackWho rings the bells at the Nativity Church, On sunday morning?Who brings toys for the childrenOn Christmas eve?Oh Jerusalem, the city of sorrowA big tear wandering in the eyeWho will halt the aggressionOn you, the pearl of religions?Who will wash your bloody walls?Who will safeguard the Bible?Who will rescue the Quran?Who will save Christ, From those who have killed Christ?Who will save man?Oh Jerusalem my townOh Jerusalem my loveTomorrow the lemon trees will blossomAnd the olive trees will rejoiceYour eyes will danceThe migrant pigeons will returnTo your sacred roofsAnd your children will play againAnd fathers and sons will meetOn your rosy hillsMy townThe town of peace and olives”

“When a man is in love how can he use old words? Should a woman desiring her lover lie down with grammarians and linguists? I said nothing to the woman I loved but gathered love's adjectives into a suitcase and fled from all languages.”

“Your love taught me to grieveand I have been needing, for centuriesa woman to make me grievefor a woman, to cry upon her armslike a sparrowfor a woman to gather my pieceslike shards of broken crystal”

“My lover asks me:“What is the difference between me and the sky?”The difference, my love,Is that when you laugh,I forget about the sky”