For Refaat Alareer
On the day you were murdered
I did many of the things
you would have done if alive—
woke up, kissed my daughter, went
to work, taught a few curious souls
a little about reading a poem—
then read the news in which
your name appeared without
you there anymore. Your assassins
were thorough.
On the day you were murdered
I was not. I came home and read
to my daughter and made her supper.
Whatever your killers could have
accused you of—being a poet,
being a teacher, being a lover
of the world and a hater
of those killers by the numbers—
that’s me too. But I’m here
where the bombs began
their journey, not there
where they found their final
home. Therefore: I’m alive
while you are not.
Poems, I tell
the students, are made of
simple things yoked together
to make the unimaginable
exist. A new thing previously
unthinkable.
On the day you were
no more I wanted to be able
to hold my daughter in my arms
and tell her a story. I didn’t
want to speak of your children
missing you forever I didn’t want
to tell her we never met
and never will. Where
in this poem
where in this world
does the word genocide go?
If I must die
you wrote
let it bring hope
let it be a tale
I write this poem
and it makes nothing
happen. Nevertheless
the hole in the world
where you still should be
is real. Those left behind
to labor with words:
let us
make some poems to fit
the form of your absence.
Originally published by Jadaliyya
Writer and professor Refaat Alareer was killed in an airstrike by the Israeli military on December 6, 2023, along with his brother, his brother’s son, his sister, and her three children.
Alareer shared countless narratives about the horrors of the Israeli occupation and system of apartheid, and he mentored so many Palestinian writers, including Yousef Aljamal who describes his friend as “the giant of the Palestinian narrative coming out of Gaza.”
Refaat’s poem “If I Must Die” has been shared widely since he was killed. On social media, an impromptu effort translated it into dozens of languages: Spanish, Italian, Tamil, Urdu, Tagalog, Greek, Japanese, Yiddish and more.
“IF I MUST DIE”
BY REFAAT ALAREER
If I must die,
you must live
to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—
and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself—
sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love
If I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale
فال بد أن تعيش أنت
رفعت العرعير
إذا كان لا بد أن أموت
فال بد أن تعيش أنت
لتروي حكايتي
لتبيع أشيائي
وتشتري قطعة قماش
وخيوطا
(فلتكن بيضاء وبذيل طويل)
كي يبصر طفل في مكان ما من ّغّزة
وهو يح ّّدق في السماء
منتظرًاً أباه الذي رحل فجأة
دون أن يودع أحدًاً
وال حتى لحمه
أو ذاته
يبصر الطائرة الورقّية
طائرتي الورقية التي صنعَتها أنت
تحّلق في الأعالي
ويظ ّّن للحظة أن هناك مالكًاً
يعيد الحب
إذا كان لا بد أن أموت
فليأ ِِت موتي باألمل
فليصبح حكاية
ترجمة سنان أنطون
Translation by Sinan Antoon
