Thank you, Isabel, for the beautiful introduction
and for your patience with me.
And, of course, I'd like to thank
the organizers, the Poetry Center and the Center
for Near Eastern Studies, for the invitation.
It's always a pleasure.
We writers always complain about how horrible it is to write.
This is the good part about the writer's life,
is to share it with you.
I will start by reading a poem that's not mine,
actually, but by the Palestinian poet Mahmoud
Darwish, who died about 15 months ago, as a gesture.
It is entitled, "Think of Others."
And I translated it into English.
As you prepare your breakfast, think of others.
Do not forget what doves eat.
As you wage your wars, think of others.
Do not forget those who seek peace.
As you pay the water bill, think of others, those
who are breastfed by clouds.
As you return home, your home, think of others.
Do not forget those who live in tents.
As you sleep, and count the stars, think of others.
There are those who cannot find space to sleep.
As you free yourself with metaphors,
think of others, those who lost their right to speak.
As you think of distant others, think of yourself, and say,
I wish I were a candle in the darkness.