Explanation of Hamza's poem

Before starting to talk about Hamza's poem, we should get to know the poet.

Fadwa Touqan: A Palestinian poet, born in 1917 AD, of Palestinian origin and origin, born in Nablus. She is the sister of the great poet Ibrahim Touqan, who died at an early age. She wrote a poem of his own called, My Brother Ibrahim. It has a long history in the history of struggle, the most important of which is Hamza's poem, which describes the bitter Palestinian reality represented by the dirty practices of the occupation against the Palestinian people.

In this regard, it is necessary to identify the person mentioned in the poem “Hamza”, who is the cousin of the poet, whose house was demolished by the occupation and his son was imprisoned. Despite this, his resolve did not weaken, but he remained steadfast, calling on those around him to stand up to injustice and tyranny.

Explanation of Hamza's poem:

Hamza was

One of my town like the others,

A good man eats his bread, with the hand of toil, like my simple and good people.

She remembers her cousin, the old man, who works and eats from the work of his hand, living his simple life like other compatriots of his dispossessed country.

He told me when we met one day,

I am lost in the labyrinth of defeat,

Hold on, don't be weak, my cousin.

This land reaped by the fire of crime,

which shrinks today with sadness and silence,

Her treacherous heart is alive and does not die.

She went through it one day after the defeat of 1967, the “setback”, dragging the tails of defeat, “and he asked her not to weaken, and to remain standing, steadfast that the land, no matter how long the defeats took, will remain alive in our hearts, will not die, and will not be lost.”

This land is a woman.

In the grooves and in the wombs,

one fertile secret,

the secret power that grows palm trees,

and Sanabel,

You grow the fighting people.

When he met his cousin, he told her about the secret of his land, for it is like a woman, just as a woman carries men and fighters in her womb.

There were days when I did not meet -

with my cousin,

However, I knew

that the belly of the earth rises and extends,

With labor and a new birth

This land will remain steadfast, it will not die, and despite the length of time that kept her away from her cousin, his land remained steadfast, alive in spirit and heart.

It was sixty-five years old

A solid rock rests on his back

When the governor of the town gave his order:

They blew up the house and tightened it.

his son in the torture chamber,

The governor of the town gave his order,

Then he got up

He sings the meanings of love and security

And bring peace!!

Hamza was 65 years old, and his back bending was evidence of his weakness and helplessness, when the occupation decided to arrest his son and demolish his house, which he and his family housed.

The soldiers cordoned off the edges of the house

And the snake wriggled

And she brilliantly completed the circle

Commanding roads came out:

(leave the house)! And they gave generously

an hour or so

The occupation gave the people of Hamza's house an hour, and perhaps less than that, to carry what he could before evacuating the house in which he left his memories, his life, and the journey of sixty years.

An hour, it went up, then it went down

The rooms of the martyr's house

And bowed the rubble of the rooms

Embracing the dreams and warmth that was -

And folds

Within it is the harvest of a lifetime, a memory

Years

I lived with toil, with persistence with tears -

With happy laughs

The rubble collapsed, the house fell, dreams fell, and laughter and memories became martyrs, like the sons of the sad people.

The pain of separation remained in the heart, for the nostalgia for stone is the strongest type of nostalgia.

Yesterday I saw my cousin on the road

Stepping on the path pays with determination and certainty!

Hamza's forehead was still raised

Kafani stays in her arms

Kafani is dying on her land

and was buried there

Under its riches, I melt and perish

And I will put grass on its land

And send a flower

The palm of a child my country has slept with

Enough is enough to stay in my bosom

dirt

and grass

And his flower

The old Hamza is still staying on his land, even after the loss of his son who became a prisoner, and after the destruction of his house, he is still staying with his head held high, hoping that if he died he would be buried in his land or that he and she would become one forever.