In the silence of the night, where dreams take flight,His words weave a tapestry of longing and light.A poet’s heart yearns through ink and paper,Crafting love’s gentle whispers, never to taper.He dances with the shadows of a thousand moons,In every verse, a melody, tender as monsoons.The language of the heart, a timeless embrace,In Mahmoud’s lines, love finds its sacred place.Through fields of olive and skies of azure blue,His love transcends borders, old and new.In every stanza, a promise softly spoken,A bond unbroken, an eternal token.So let us breathe in the fragrance of his rhyme,Where words of love outlast the sands of time.In Darwish’s verses, our spirits find release,For in his love, we discover our own peace.