'Ummi' by Ahmad Qaboor

Many different gifted musicians have set the words of Mahmoud Darwish's poem, 'Ummi' to music. Marcel Khalife's version may be the most famous of all, but my favourite always will be this song by Ahmad Qaboor.


'I long for my mother's bread,
And my mother's coffee,
And her touch.

Childhood memories grow up in me
Day after day.
I must be worthy of my life
At the hour of my death,
Worthy of the tears of my mother.
Oh... my Mother!
Oh... my Mother!

And if I return one day:
Take me as a veil for your eyelashes;
Cover my bones with the grass
Blessed by your footsteps;
Bind us together
With a lock of your hair,
With a thread trailing
From the hem of your dress.
I might become immortal,
Become a god
If I touch the depths of your heart.
Oh... my mother!
Oh... My mother!
I long for my mother's bread
And my mother's coffee,
And her touch.

Childhood memories grow up in me
Day after day
I must be worthy of my life
At the hour of my death,
Worthy of the tears of my mother.
Oh... my mother!
Oh... my mother!

Words by Mahmoud Darwish,
Music by Ahmad Qaboor

'We Shall Return One Day'

Sung by the incomparable Fairouz, this classical aria by the Rahbani brothers continues to speak to the heart of every refugee.

Here is a liberal translation of this beautiful song:

'We shall return,'
the nightingale told me,
When upon a hill we met.
That nightingale lives on there
In our dreams.
Among the hills
And people who yearn,
There is a place for us.
O heart, how long?
How long then...
Have we been scattered by the wind?

Come,
We shall return.
Let us return!

O heart, do not drop in weariness
On the path of our return.
How it wounds our pride to know
That birds tomorrow will return
While we still remain here.

There are hills
That sleep and wake again
On our pledge.
There are people
In love with days
Filled with waiting and nostalgic songs,
And places where the eye is filled
With willows bending over the water,
While in their shade
Afternoons drink the perfume of peace.

One day
We shall return to our homes,
To drown in the warmth of hope.
We shall return
Though time passes us by
And distances grow only greater
Between us.'

Sanarjiou Yawman