Everyday is al nakba

There is a sea in our garden
At the foot of the hills
Between the olive trees
And the poppy fields
The waves sleep on the meadows

The valley burns in the dying light
The sun caresses the eyes
The sky blushes so shy
Over the marine plains
Perfumed with the scent of thyme

The farmers’ houses are sailing ships
They cut their way through the land
And dance with the wind
And when the sea gets rough
The air fills with ancient songs

I dream of this dewy land
Sixty years of exile
In the alleys of the camp
Like a desperate lover
I long for freedom and return

I’m coming home hills of Haifa
Mount Carmel port of Jaffa
And on the altar of Jenine
I will baptize my children
With the earth of Filasteen

(my translation from Arabic)