دواوين شعر

• لأنه وطني

• قولي للرمل

• الجرح الفلسطيني وبراعم الدم

• لا تقولي مات يا أمي

• حفروا مذكراتي على جسدي

• أحلام فلسطينية

• شعرت بالدنيا تغني

• كيف أضمّ إليّ القمر

• Palestinian Dreams

Palestinian Dreams

• Palestinian Dreams

• The Thorny Road

• Poems of Insurgents

• The Last Letter

• For the Sake of Your Eyes

• More Dear

• Palestinian Mother

• Deformed Portrait

• Optimism

• A Family Dialogue

• Children of Palestine

• The Killed, the Killer

• History That Drinks Blood

• The Tiny Fingers

• The Song of the Nightingale

• The Frame of the Issue

• I Dream and Dream

• The Root of the Tree

• Why and How?

• Between You and Me

• The path of Life

• The New Nationality

• A Minarate

• My Dreams

• Tell Them

• Death in the Lap of Land

• The City of Dreams

• I Am*

• A love Song to Snow*

• Mohammad Al- Dura

• Shining Words*

• Martyr .. Martyr ..Martyr*






• Translated by Issa Mitri

Zeinab A/S Habash:
• A poet, a writer, a researcher
and an artist.
• Born in Beit Dajan/Yafa -
Palestine .
• B.A. English language and
literature from Damascus
University in 1965.
• M.A. Education from Bier
Zeit University in 1982.
• Published books in literature:
poetry, short stories,
novel …etc, some educational
researches and many
oil paintings.
• Participated in some local
and international festivals
for poetry, and in some art
exhibitions.
• Worked with UNRWA a
school supervisor / English
at Jerusalem and Jericho
areas.
• Worked with the Ministry
of Education and Higher
Education in Palestine as
General Secretary of the
Educational Committee.
• For more information,
please visit her web site;
www.zeinab-habash.ws
z_habash9@yahoo.com

Palestinian Dreams

(1)
As fate and destiny merge together,
As the brown soil melts
When kissing rain,
As the blond star disappears
When the moon laughs,
I melt into you,
I disappear in your eyes.
I become a vein in your big heart,
My country.
(2)
You!
You are a song that heaven plays,
Birds dance,
Trees and flowers rejoice,
Children run happily
In fields of almond and olives,
And eyes whisper to each other.
(3)
O country!
I wish you would be a beautiful nest,
That every migrant nightingale,
Of your original people.
Looks at eagerly.
(4)
I wish I would be,
A green weatstalk
A drop of water,
And a handful of soil.
(5)
O country!
I wish you would be
My everlasting homeland.
I wish I would be a red rose
That covers with hope and love
The road of the returnees.
(6)
I wish I would be
A bomb that bursts into light
That plants joy and kindness
In every village and house
In a world that doesn’t know suffering
Hostility and destruction.
(7)
I dream I would be a matchstick,
Kissing every proud candle,
That sings for the rebirth
Of a new world,
That embraces clouds,
And covers the soil with herbs.
(8)
I wish I would be a butterfly,
That colors fields,
Laughs to light,
Kisses flowers day and night,
Offers generously
Smiles to children,
And draws history
For new generations.
(9)
I wish that the globe would be,
A public song.
Chanted by the young and the old,
Along the journey of life,
At weddings,
Happy occasions,
Feasts,
And at seasons of beauty and harvests.
(10)
O country!
I wish you would be
A song
Chanted by Heaven
To Earth,
To every human being,
To every life in this world.
So, dreams become true
Darkness drowns in darkness,
The Moon becomes happy,
Children rejoyce
In the fields of almond and olives,
And eyes laugh warmly
To each other.
1980

The Thorny Road

In our thorny road,
Mines are planted,
Wheat stalks are burnt,
And hunger
Alone,
Is the struggler.
1980

Poems of Insurgents

Whenever I read
The poems of freedom fighters,
I lose consciousness.
I become a bomb,
That shouts in the face
Of this universe.
And changes the order
Of peoples roles
1980

The Last Letter

I need one letter
To finish the poem.
And an eternal spring,
Of blood.
Will respond.
1986

For the Sake of Your Eyes

O my country!
You were a song in my eyes
Filling my heart with joy
You were more beautiful,
And more precious,
Than Paradise.
But,
My country,
The sacred light in my eyes,
You’ve become a thousand times
More beautiful,
And more precious,
When they,
For the sake of your eyes,
Pulled off my eyes.
1969

More Dear

It’s more dear to me,
To be in jail in Haifa,
Suffering torture
And cruelness,
Than to be in a castle
On a green hill,
Far away
From the soil of
My country.
1969

Palestinian Mother

O Mothers !
You are the ones
Who will make the history
Of our Country.
1969

Demolished Portrait

O my beautiful portrait!
I have great dreams in you
Great expectations.
And a thousand exciting symphonies.
In you,
I have a long story.
But
They stained you with bloodshed,
With hatred and hostility,
And with condemned sadism.
That day
They not only wounded my heart,
But, also
On a remnant of a cidar tree,
They crucified me
Besides the corpse of Jesus.
1968

Optimism

O country!
I still sing charming songs,
To the moon.
I still dream of many joys,
Despite my sadness.
And I still dream of peace
Despite the darkness.
1969

A Family Dialogue

Why do they want my head?
Why?
Because, in your head,
My eye sight,
Precious jewels that amaze them.
Why do they want
To pluck my eyes?
Because, in your eyes,
My darling
Birds have built their nests.
Why do they prevent me
From singing?
Because foxes hate songs,
And fear the roaring of lions.
Why have I been born
Without an identity?
To carry,
My lovely child,
The sorrows of this world.
To create,
My lovely child,
The dreams of this world.
1976

Children of Palestine

Death
Reaps the flowers
Of almonds,
But trees
Started giving fruits
Before flowering.
1976

The Killed, the Killer

In my country,
The delicate star burns the sun,
At midday.
Young birds,
Tell stories of glory,
To the dangerous serpent.
Wheatstalks,
Take off their green
And yellow garments,
To participate in struggle.
In my country,
O my beloved
The killed has become
The killer.
1976

History That Drinks Blood
(Ahmad Dahdool was beaten to death.)

Ahmad wasn’t known,
Except by his friends.
But,
After being martyred,
Ahmad has become a history,
Irrigated with blood.
1976

Tiny Fingers

I read what tiny fingers dig,
In the forehead of shame.
I read what tiny fingers draw,
In the eyes of daylight.
1976

The Song of the Nightingale
(To Mahmoud Alkurd)

The nightingale sang
In the nest,
Then flew
Yet
In a trice,
He became a star,
Spread light
At midday.
1976

The Frame of the Issue

The Sun became unconcious
In the morning,
When my shivering neck
Dropped,
On the hanging pole.
The Stars crept close to me,
And bent
Over the cheek of night.
Weeping silently
Dear fellow!
Tear the gown
Off the tattoo of torture.
Between eyelashes and eyes,
Only mirage is found.
Fellow!
Be not so sad,
I’m not the first victim,
Nor the last.
My neck became a cloud,
My eyelashes a jungle,
Fellow,
Don’t hold melancholy in your eyes.
Fellow!
Go on chanting,
To help me bear my death.
For I’m not the issue,
I’m the frame of the issue.
1976

I Dream and Dream

I don’t dream of palaces
Or silk clothes,
Not of gold or precious jewelry,
Nor of travelling round the world,
I dream,
Of wandering within my own garden,
Of watching the children
Of my country
Play and laugh,
Of drinking my cup of coffee
On my own balcony.
I dream,
Of watching my mother’s happiness
Jumping off her eyes,
Of seeing my forlorn brothers, sisters,
And their children,
Running joyfully into her arms.
I dream,
Of walking in our beautiful street,
Without being afraid
Of the soldiers’ patrols,
That intend to kill those
Who are passing by.
I dream,
Of driving my car
Into the streets of Ramallah,
Without being stopped by soldiers,
Who announce the street
A military area.
And I dream
Of sleeping calmly,
Without being worried
That the armed intelligence men,
Who storm houses at midnight,
Would sneak into my bed room.
1988

The Root of the Tree

The branches of the tree,
Multiply
The wind blows them away,
But, all the boughs,
However they are separated,
Still drink,
From the same root.
1975

Why and How?

Why do I love you?
Can the earth be asked
Why it loves trees?
Can the songs be asked,
Why they dance
On the tunes of music?
Can lovers be asked,
Why they keep awake?
Can the sun be asked,
Why it decorates with light
The eye of the moon?
How do I love you?
I love you,
As a brook of longing
Gathering a river
Of the thirst of life.
I love you, as a dewy dawn,
As fragrance.
Why do I love you?
I’m tired my comrade, I’m tired.
I love you the same as a fida’i
Loves his land.
Will you ask?
1976

Between You and Me

Between you and me,
Ah! What is it ?
Is it war?
We might die before war dies!
We might get lost again.
Catastrophe might revive
And love might die.
Between you and me,
Ah! My beloved
A hostile oppressor,
A pile of Hebraic orders.
Orders of house arrest
For me,
And eternal exile for you.
1976

The Path of Life

I know
That age is short,
And the path is long.
Yet
To live our life,
And to walk
That long path,
One has to implant
Into the depth of eternity,
A heart wounded with love.
1976

The New nationality

I need a pen and a gun.
A pen,
To explode dynamite
And atom bombs.
A gun,
To draw happy dreams,
To color fields,
To scratch out wars,
To plant laughter over all roads,
And make a law of
Love and peace.
With my gun,
I cancel global boundaries,
Offer man a new nationality
That allows him
To go round the world,
With no identity.
1975

A Minarate

O beloved people !
I’ve read the history
Of all nations.
Yet, I’ve never found,
In books of history
And civilization,
Any people like us,
Who built out of their blood
And bones
And flesh
A minarate for their people.
1975

My Dreams

Since the birth of Christ,
I have been dreaming
That joy will come.
Since I became the martyred,
I drew my dreams,
With tears and rainbows.
2002

Tell Them

Tell them
If they close the eye
Of the moon,
Does her light vanish ?
Tell them
If they muzzle
The beak of fate,
Does the bird stop singing?
1970

Death in the Lap of Land
(The massacre at Iyoun Qara,20.5.1990)

I was alone,
Holding love in my palm,
And walking,
Carrying melancholy in my heart,
And walking,
Split blood flowing abundantly
From my wound.
Night intensifies,
Hunger is nails.
Cold in Gaza morning is killing.
And me alone
Killed,
Wearing the form of a fighter.
Alone I walked,
Embracing children
Getting inspiration
From the warmth
Of their innocence.
With nothing to own,
Except thirsty eyes for
The sunrise
Of my beloved Yaffa.
Alone I walked
Having nothing
Except sweet memories
That irrigated my land
With love, dreams, deep longing,
And with a spring of roses.
Except the smiles of birds
That before dawn,
Have escaped from their cages,
And covered the horizon,
Which has been drowned
In the lake of death.
Alone I walked
In my hand, some bread,
Olives, cactus,
And pure dreams.
Alone I walked
I walked from September,
Immwas
And the hill of sculps
At Tall El-Za’tar.
I walked From Sabra and Shatella,
Deir Yassin,
And Qufr Qassem.
Where death has invaded festivals,
To a new one,
Where death is a soldier,
That smashed herbs and
Dewy flowers.
O You Qufr Qassem!
Tell me, for the sake of God!
How does death look like
In the lap of land?
How does time collapse?
How do heart beatings
Become gunfires out of nothing?
How does life become a nightmare?
A horror?
Tell me Qufr Qassem
What makes my dreams small?
What makes the dreams of birds great?
What makes the spilt blood from my heart
Irrigate sand
At midday
Except the absence of justice
In the world!
My eyes crawled over the waves
My eyesight returned to me.
I saw a young dark child,
At the age of flowers,
Cut the waves,
With her tiny hands.
Immediately
The sea has changed into a forest.
And the moon was held
By the arms of a cloud.
I almost died of thirst
Yet, in a glance
She jumped from the heart of rain
Carrying water in one hand
In the other,
A stone.
1990

The City of Dreams
(At the Med. Festival- Besceglie-Italy)
(7.9.2000)

Bisceglie !
The City of dreams
The song of waves
The bird of joys
And the rose of ancient love.
Bisceglie!
An innocent girl
That sleeps in the arms
Of the Mediterranean festival.
A saint
Praying in children’s smiles.
Bisceglie!
Loving mother
Who gave birth
To all these kind children,
That I loved very much.
And loved their charming smiles
In which my eyes were drowned.
When I returned to Ramallah
I found you in my bags.
When I looked in the mirror
I saw you on my cheeks.
When I walked in the streets
You were walking by my side.
And when I put my head
On my pillow,
I was putting it in your warm lap.
Bisceglie!
Who has ornamented my heart
With you?
Who has changed you
Into a lovely tune
That irrigates my dreams?
And who has changed
Your wonderful people
Into intimate friends
And relatives,
Filling my garden?
Bisceglie!
I found in you real security,
Which I had never known.
Freedom,
Which I was deprived from.
Peace,
Which I still dream of.
And love,
Which all Palestinians
Are thirsty for.
I saw simplicity,
Which surpasses all beauty.
Will you allow me to dream,
That one day,
I shall see in my country,
All the beauty I have seen in you?
2000

I Am

Upon reaching my 14th year,
I wrote the following in my daily diary:
“ I was nothing, became something,
but will be everything.”
Who am I?
What am I?
Two grand questions ripened
By the calm fire of my life.
For I am myself.
I am this vast sky
Which opens its arms
To embrace all the birds.
I am this ocean with all its treasures
And this earth
With all its magic and mystery.
I am the sun, I am the moon.
I shrink,
And transform into a dew drop
Glistening on the crown
Of a violet bloom.
I expand,
And pluck the stars with ease.
I am everything I see
And everything I will see.
Everything I conceive in wakefulness,
Everything I conceive in sleep,
Everything I conceive in reality,
Everything I conceive in fantasy.
I am all those whom I love,
And all those
I will love.
I am all the towns I visited,
And all the towns I will visit.
My eyes contain all existence.
My arms embrace the universe.
My heart grows to hold the world.
All these trees are mine,
And all these singing birds
Are singing for me.
Whenever I shut the door behind me
When I leave my home,
The doors
Of ultimate happiness and freedom
Open for me.
And when I return,
The door becomes happy
And the flowers in my garden,
Which I irrigate each morning,
Are so jubilant
At my return.
When I enter my home,
I enter my small paradise.
Yes
For home is my small paradise.
In it I listen to sweet music.
In it I draw a Homeland
And color it to my taste.
In it I create dreams and trees,
Poems and legends.
In this small paradise I feel
God has created the whole universe
For me.
I humbly stand,
At the threshold of the Creator
In my pure white clothes.
I thank Him for innumerable blessings
And recite His Words,
Which are above all other words.
I feel I’m close to Him
And He’s close to me.
My heart then is full
With peace and happiness,
So that if I open my eyes,
The world,
The entire world,
Will drown in them.
This is who I am,
And what I am.
Is it true I am all this?!!!
How wonderful!!
2001

A love Song to Snow

O Pure white!
The Purity of Angels
Laughing as children,
Grand as a bride’s gown,
Wonderful as a poem,
Fragile as the grip of a child’s hand,
Conquering as judgment,
Exceptional as a jasmine flower,
Elegant as a lily,
Graceful as a ballerina,
Alert as a candle!
In you
I see my most beautiful dreams
And my innocent love.
I see the glimmer of happiness
In my eyes,
And the mythical portraits
Of wonderful art.
I see persons and forms and flowers.
I see birds and gardens.
As if I live in another world!
Am I on Mars?
Or am I hovering in the
Seventh Sky?!
As if I stand
At the Throne’s Doorsteps
And see the Light of God
And the Creator’s Greatness.
I see God’s Power
And feel His Gentleness,
His Wisdom,
And His Kindness.
And see His Smile,
Like no other.
I wish I can touch you
And hold you to my bosom.
I wish I savor your taste,
I wish I kiss you,
I wish I clean my heart
With your purity.
I wish you permeate every cell
Of my soul.
And create in my heart,
Love,
Happiness
And life.
I wish I sleep
On your feathered pillows
And cover my body
With your white sheets,
And gather the warmth
Of your downy fur.
Everything yields to you.
Everything receives you with love,
Like no other love.
The Earth hugs you with her arms.
The trees surrender to you.
The flowers close their eyes
And slumber in your lap.
The walls call upon you
To ascend them with integrity.
And the streets give you alone,
The right of way.
Everything gives itself to you,
As if you are the eternal love.
O You, white as a lover’s steed,
Let me ride your horseback.
Rush me to the unknown fields.
Take me to your bewitched forests.
Float me in the world of poetry.
Sing to me the song of innocence,
And let me hear your sweet music.
O You, gentle as a butterfly,
Take my soul.
Absorb her nectar,
And make it a part of you.
O You, divine blessing,
Quickly spread on all quarters
Of our motherland,
And become fresh water.
For the people of Palestine
Are so thirsty for water,
So thirsty for happiness,
So thirsty for freedom.
And here you come to us,
You, who have all that we need.
1998

Mohammad Al-Dura

So it is,
Without any embellishment,
Mohammad Al-Dura
This beautiful dark child,
Transforms
Into an entire motherland.
Whenever I see you, Mohammad,
Writhing in pain
Trying to shrink your small body
So that the bullets of death
Do not strike you,
I cry.
70
Whenever I see you crying
For help from your father,
Who is transformed into a statue,
Of absolute failure,
I cry.
Whenever I see your pearly tears
Spill from your beautiful eyes,
I cry.
Whenever I see your head fall
Onto your father’s chest,
I cry.
Whenever I see your tiny hand
Wipes up the tears
That have poured
On your wrinkled face,
I cry.
Whenever I see your body
Sprawled in the dust,
And grows and grows
Before my very eyes,
I cry.
You have grown, Mohammad
To the size of our motherland.
And your small body
Covers all of Palestine.
And your innocent blood,
Which like a waterfall,
Flooded upon the earth,
Caused the drowning of our motherland
From Sea to River,
From Ras Al-Naqurah to Rafah.
I did not grieve for your martyrdom
But for the way
You were martyred,
At high noon,
In view of every human
On earth.
Isn’t this what happened to all of us,
In the past?
Isn’t this what is happening to all of us,
Every day?
Isn’t this what will happen to all of us,
In the future?
The intire world watches us
While we are being killed in cold blood
In all the previous massacres,
In all the massacres
That are happening now,
And in all the massacres
That will happen in the future.
Your father is a disabled man
Without power and without strength.
He even waved his paralyzed arms
Begging the killer
To stop the murder of his beloved boy!
Whenever I see you, Mohammad,
I cry on me
For
You
Are
Me!
You are all my family!
And you are all Palestinians
In this universe!
Whenever I see your father,
I cry for all the Arabs
Who, though they love us very much,
Are so powerless
To lift the injustice that engulfs us.
Whenever I see the free people
Of the world
Support us,
I cry and cry
For all the human values,
Which are erased with a tiny eraser
Called the American Veto.
2000

Shining Words

With Love,
We protect our souls
From decay.
With Work,
We confirm the value
Of our existence.
With Generosity,
We take our rewards.
With Happiness,
We resist the armies
Of boredom.
With a Smile,
We preserve the feelings
Of our mirrors.
With Laughter,
We wrestle death.
With Kindness,
We express our humanity.
With Astonishment,
We immortalize the innocence
Of our childhood.
With Hope,
We expel the locusts
Of despair.
With Silence,
We emphasize
Our true feelings.
With Music,
We transform into
Butterflies.
For Freedom,
We sacrifice the treasures
Of the world.
With a Truthful word,
We open hearts.
With Belonging,
Our souls unite.
With Faithfulness,
We deserve immortality.
With Manners,
Our bodies sparkle.
With Rightness,
We defeat power.
With Courage,
We trample cowardice.
With the Future,
We preserve the past.
With Drawing,
We color life.
With Poetry,
We embody the fantasy.
With Persistence,
We entice the impossible.
2001

Martyr .. Martyr ..Martyr

Two full weeks
We’ve swung
Between life and death.
We prayed, we invocated
We supplicated
To The Living Immortal.
Until you came out to us
From the Percy French hospital,
Draped in the flag of Palestine,
Drowned in our National Anthem,
That made us all
Drown in a deluge of tears.
You were visited by your friend,
Doctor Jacques Chirac,
Twice.
The first time,
He tried desperately to grant you
The elixir of life.
And the second time,
You were asleep,
Encircled with your pleasant dreams;
Dreams of liberation,
Dreams of repatriation,
Dreams of praying,
In the Holy Al Aqsa Mosque.
He whispered to you:
“I am your friend Doctor Chirac.”
His warm words touched you deeply
And brought you back to life.
You opened your eyes,
And smiled.
Truly you deserve to smile,
Our President
Because your French friend
Has granted you:
The State that you’ve dreamt of,
The flag of four colors,
And the National Anthem.
He has also, granted us,
Palestinians,
This great Love
That gave wind to our wings
And lightened our hearts
Of the heavy load
Of this hard event.
It is true that tears burst
From our eyes.
But we felt that the honor,
Which was bestowed on you,
Has extended to engulf us all.
And the pride we had felt,
Filled each and every Heart
Of the Palestinians
Who are scattered
All over the whole universe.
And that Palestine,
Which we dream of liberating,
Has been liberated by you.
And your first dream of Martyrdom
Has been realized.
With the airplane that soared
Carrying you
Towards Al Kinana Land,
Our souls soared
And landed with you
At the airport.
There, you have realized
The second Martyrdom.
And you proceed in front
Of kings
And presidents
On a gun carriage,
Led by true Arabian horses.
How much we felt
We are great and noble!
No one
Who came before you,
Nor would come after you,
Is as fortunate, or will be as fortunate,
To have the honor bestowed on you.
Did you feel as we did,
The magnificence of this surprise?
Did your heart dance with joy
At hearing the National Anthem
Played by the musicians
In our beloved Egypt?
Did you notice the red carpet?
Which is only laid out
For great people and presidents?
All these friends
Came to you from around the globe,
Not only to say goodbye
To your mortal remains,
But to grasp a bundle of light
From your struggling spirit,
That insisted
On obtaining freedom and dignity
For your land and your people.
Everyone who witnessed you,
Wished that his funeral
Would be conducted
With such reverence,
With such greatness,
With such esteem.
Then you descended upon us
Like the Bird of Thunder,
For the third Martyrdom
You have wished:
“Martyr… Martyr… Martyr!”
With your first Martyrdom,
You united us.
With your second Martyrdom,
You united the intire world
With us and for us.
And with your third Martyrdom,
You awakened in us the responsibility
To achieve all of your dreams.
In the first,
You were embraced by France.
In the second,
You were embraced by Egypt.
In the third,
You were embraced
By your precious and loving Palestine.
A testimony of the love and esteem
Of your great people,
The people who stood by you
As you stood with them,
In the most difficult days of hardship.
Excuse us Abu Ammar,
For the feelings of our people for you
Were so overwhelming,
And greater than the need
To give you a more formal funeral.
It was a spontaneous funeral,
Governed by pure emotions,
Pouring from pure hearts.
The youths
Tried to carry you to Al Quds,
Tried to return life to you.
They replaced the flag
With the Kofiyeh.
Even the policemen,
Who were supposed
To maintain order,
Joined them,
Releasing from deep within them,
The call…
“With our souls, with our blood,
We will redeem you Abu Ammar”
“With our souls, with our blood,
We will redeem you Palestine.”
And they rushed with you,
Beyond our amazement.
Here you lay embraced
By your soil
From the Holy Al Quds.
So sleep with delighted eyes.
We shall awake you
Soon
From your slumber,
To walk together
To Al Quds,
And to pray together
In the Holy Al Aqsa Mosque,
That awaits you,
O Living Martyr!
Are not your immortal words;
“To Al Quds we go,
Martyrs in millions?”
Yes Abu Ammar
You are returning to Al Quds a Martyr
Blazing the trail for all martyrs
Ahead of you,
And those who will follow.
I do not say farewell,
Abu Ammar.
Bu I say, so long,
Until we meet again.
Oh, You!
The miracle of this age and all ages!
2004

Books published for the poet Zeinab Habash:
1 - Tell Sand/ poetry
2 - Palestinian Wound and Blood Blossoms/ poetry
3 - Say Not He Died, Mum/ poetry
4 - They Digged My Memories Into My Body/ poetry
5 - Because It Is My Country/ poetry
6 - Ode To Beloved Country/ blank verse
7 - Love Letters Tattooed on the Forehead of the Moon/ Blank verse
8 - The Sea Said/ blank verse
9 - Five Lilies and a Rose/ texts
10 - This Mad World/ short plays
11 - Why Do Boys Love Plums?/ short stories
12 - The Tulip Told Me/ short stories
13 - The Butterfly and the Octopus/ a novel
14 - Hdaidoon’s Adventures/ a story for children
15 - Utilizing Curricula in W/B and Gaza / edu. research
16 - Learning How to Learn/ edu. study
17 - Educational Horizons for Creative Teaching and Learning/ edu. Study
18 - Creative Thinking/ edu. Research
Under Publishing:
19 - M.A. Theses titled (Common Errors in the Use of English Prepositions for
Arab Learners.)/ edu. research
20 - How Can I Hug the Moon?/ poetry
21 - I Felt the Globe Is Singing/ poetry

أحلام فلسطينية

فهرسة الأشعار

• احلام فلسطينية

• الدرب الشائك

• أشعارالثوار

• الحرف الآخير

• من أجل عينيك

• أحب ّإليّ

• الأم الفلسطينية

• على حطام لوحة

• تفاؤل

• حوار عائلي

• أطفال فلسطين

• المقتول القاتل

• التاريخ المروي بالدم

• الأصابع الصغيرة

• أغنية البلبل

• برواز القضية

• أحلم وأحلم

• جذر الشجرة

• لماذا وكيف؟

• بيني وبينك

• طريق الحياة

• الجنسية الجديدة

• منارة

• أحلامي

• قل لهم

• الموت في حضن الوطن

• مدينة الأحلام

• أنا *

• أغنية حب إلى الثلج *

• محمد الدرة

• كلمات مضيئة *

• شهيداً... شهيداً... شهيداً *





• ترجمها إلى الإنجليزية عيسى متري

أحلام فلسطينية

زيتب عبد السلام حبش
• شاعرة وكاتبة وباحثة تربوية
وفنانة تشكيلية.
• من مواليد بيت دجن / يافا -
فلسطين.
• ليسانس في اللغة الإنجليزية
وآدابها من جامعة دمشق عام
.1965
• ماجستير في الإدارة والإشراف
التربوي من جامعة بير زيت عام
.1982
• صدرت لها عدة كتب في مجالات
أدبية متنوعة: منها الشعر والقصة
القصيرة والرواية وغيرها.
وبعض الدراسات التربوية.
• لها مجموعة لوحات زيتية.
• شاركت في بعض المهرجانات
المحلية والدولية للشعر، كما
شاركت في بعض المعارض
الفنية.
• عملت مع وكالة الغوث الدولية
موجهة للغة الإنجليزية في
منطقتي القدس وأريحا. ثم عملت
في وزارة التربية والتعليم العالي
في فلسطين مديراً عاماً/ أمين
سر لجنة التربية والتعليم.
• للمزيد من المعلومات يمكن زيارة
موقعها الإلكتروني:
www.zeinab-habash.ws
z_habash9@yahoo.com

احلام فلسطينية

(1)

كما يلتحمُ القضاءُ بالقدرْ
كما تذوبُ التربةُ السمراءُ
حينَ تَلْثُمُ المطرْ
كما تغيبُ النجمةُ الشقراءُ
حينَ يضحكُ القمرْ
أذوبُ فيكْ
أغيبُ في عينيكْ
أصيرُ شرياناً في قلبكَ الكبيرْ
ياوطني

(2)
يا غُنوةً تعزفُها السماءْ
فترقصُ الطيورْ
وتفرحُ الأشجارُ والزهورْ
ويركضُ الأطفالُ في كرومِ اللوزِ
والزيتونْ
وتهمسُ العيونُ للعيونْ
(3)
أحلمُ لو يا وطني تصيرْ
عُشاً جميلْ
يرنو إليهِ كلُ بلبلٍ مهاجرٍ
من شعبكَ الأصيل
(4)
أحلم لو أصيرْ
سنبلةً خضراءْ
وقطرةً من ماءْ
وقبضةً من الترابْ
(5)
أحلمُ لو يا وطني
تصير موطني إلى الأزلْ
ولو أصير وردةً حمراءْ
تَفرِشُ دربَ القادمينْ
بالحبّ والأملْ
(6)
أحلمُ لو أصيرْ
قنبلةً تُفَجّرُ الضياء
وتزرعُ الحنانَ والفرحْ
في كلّ قريةٍ وكل دارْ
في عالمٍ لا يعرفُ الشقاءْ
والحقدَ .... والدمارْ
(7)
أحلمُ لو يا وطني أصيرْ
عوداً من الثقابْ
يلثمُ كل شمعةٍ مرفوعةِ الجبينْ
تحلمُ أن تشدو لمولد جديدْ
لعالمٍ يعانقُ السحابْ
فيغرقُ الترابُ في الأعشابْ
(8)
أحلمُ لو أصيرْ
فراشةً تُلوّنُ الحقولْ
تضحكُ للضياءْ
تقبّلُ الأزهارَ في الصباحِ والمساءْ
وتغدقُ العطاءْ
تبسمُ للأطفالْ
وترسمُ التاريخَ للأجيالْ
(9)
أحلمُ لو تصير الكرةُ الأرضيّةْ
أُغنيةً شعبيّةْ
يُطلقُها الصغارُ والكبارْ
في رحلةِ الحياةِ
في الأعراسِ
في الأفراحِ
في الأعيادْ
وفي مواسمِِِِِِ الجمالِ والحصادْ
(10)
أحلم لو يا وطني تصيرْ
أغنيةً تعزفها السّماءْ
للأرضِ
للبشرْ
لكل ما في الكونِ من حياةْ
فتصدقُ الأحلامْ
وَيَغْرقُ الظلامُ في الظلامْ
ويفرحُ القمرْ
ويلعبُ الأطفالُ في كرومِ اللوزِ
والزيتونْ
وتضحكُ العيونُ ... للعيونْ

1980

الدرب الشائك

في دربنا الشائك
تُزرعُ الألغامْ
وتُحرقُ السنابلْ
والجوعُ وحدهُ فيهِ
هُوَ المناضلُ

1980

1986 م