Palestinians and Arabs celebrated yesterday the 11th anniversary of the death of the great Arab poet Mahmoud Darwish.

On social media sites, many have recovered thousands of written, video, and recorded videos of their well-known closeness to them and their great place among their people. From what the poet wrote as a literary commandment, in one of his books:

«I want a well-organized funeral, where they put the body, not the deformed, in a wooden coffin wrapped with a clear flag of the four colors, even if it is quoted from a verse whose words do not indicate the meaning, carried on the shoulders of my friends, and my friends - enemies.

I want garlands of red roses and yellow roses. I do not want the cheap pink and I do not want violet because it broadcasts the smell of death. I want a little talkative broadcaster, a little hoarseness, able to claim convincing grief, alternating with tapes bearing my voice. I want a quiet, clear, great funeral to have a nice farewell and reverse the meeting. What good luck for the new dead, on the first day of farewell, when depositors scramble in their praise. Knights for one day, loved for one day, innocent for one day .. No gossip, insults or envy. Well, I am without a wife and without a boy. This saves some friends the long acting effort of a sad role that ends only with the widow's tenderness over the comforter. This saves the child the humiliation of standing at the gates of institutions with Bedouin bureaucracy. Well, I am lonely .. lonely .. lonely .. so my funeral will be free and without a courtesy account, after which mourners will go to their daily affairs.

I want a funeral and an elegant coffin made of it, as Tawfiq al-Hakim wants to look down on the mourners. I listen to sarcastic comments: he loved women, and he was extravagant in choosing clothes. His carpets reached his knees, had a palace on the French azure coast, a villa in Spain, a secret account in Zurich, a private secret plane, and five luxury cars in his garage in Beirut. We don't know if he has a private yacht in Greece. But in his house of sea shells enough to build a camp. He was lying to women. The poet died and his hair died with him. What remains of it? His stage is over and we have finished his superstition. He took his hair with him and left. It was a long nose and tongue .. I will listen to what is harsher when the imagination is freed from everything. I will smile in the coffin, I will make an effort to say: Enough, I will try to go back I can not. ''

Darwish died on August 9, 2008, after an open heart operation at the Texas Medical Center in Houston, USA, and then went into a coma. Clinically dead.