We are captives, even if our wheat grows over the fences/ and swallows rise from our broken chains./ We are captives of what we love, what we desire, and what we are.

I believe in the power of poetry, which gives me reasons to look ahead and identify a glint of light.

She does not love you. Your metaphors thrill her you are her poet. But that's all there's to it.

I thought poetry could change everything, could change history and could humanize, and I think that the illusion is very necessary to push poets to be involved and to believe, but now I think that poetry changes only the poet.

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

If the Olive Trees knew the hands that planted them, Their Oil would become Tears.

I don't decide to represent anything except myself. But that self is full of collective memory.