One day, I will be a poet. Water will depend on my visions.
Every beautiful poem is an act of resistance.
For the Arabs in Israel there is always a tension between nationality and identity.
And I tell myself, a moon will rise from my darkness.
Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless.
Where can I free myself of the homeland in my body?