For the Arabs in Israel there is always a tension between nationality and identity.

I love women whose hidden desires make horses put an end to their lives at the threshold

I wish I were a candle in the darkness.

Have I had two roads, I would have chosen their third.

Against barbarity, poetry can resist only by confirming its attachment to human fragility like a blade of grass growing on a wall while armies march by.

Standing here, staying here, permanent here, eternal here, and we have one goal, one, one: to be.

The metaphor for Palestine is stronger than the Palestine of reality.