In 1996, after the Oslo peace accords he returned at last to Ramallah. He tried to coax joy out of himself, as hens were coaxed with barley, but it was hard. Was he returning as a guest, a citizen, or a refugee? In the city, he got lost. On the drive north from the border checkpoints the land was bare and chalky; he had remembered it leafed with green “in twenty languages of beauty”.
1996年，在《奥斯陆和平协议》之后，他终于回到了拉姆安拉，他十分痛恨这份协议。他想骗自己快乐起来，就像用大麦哄母鸡一样，但这太难了。他是以客人、公民还是难民的身份回来？在城市里，他感到迷茫。从边境检查站驱车北上，土地光秃秃的好似白垩；他记得路边葱郁的绿叶可以用“二十种美丽的语言”描述。
Was his memory playing him false? At his birth-village, Deir Ghassanah, where he gave a reading, the villagers mobbed him, but they did not know him. In the main square, daubed with Hamas slogans, he seemed to see the past squatting in the sun, like a dog forgotten by its owners. He wanted to pick it up and urge it towards the future.
是记忆欺骗了他吗？回到出生地代尔加萨纳，他在那里举行了一场诗歌诵读，村民们将现场围的水泄不通，但没人认识他。主广场上写满了哈马斯的口号，他似乎看到了过去的时光匍匐在阳光下，就像一只被主人遗忘的狗。他想把它捡起来，催促它走向未来。
The last place he lived in was Amman, Jordan’s capital, where he was buried. He was still angry, with a sort of numb despair, at the condition of Palestinians, the moral turpitude of the Palestinian Authority and Israel’s boot on the neck, controlling everything.
他最后居住的场所是约旦首都安曼，他死后葬在了那里。他对巴勒斯坦人的处境，巴勒斯坦权力机构的道德败坏，以及以色列强行控制着一切感到很愤怒，带着一种麻木的绝望。
He accepted that he would always be in a state of uprootedness. But there was one sure place he belonged, where he could retreat from ugliness, or abuse, or tedious waiting at some checkpoint: his inner space. There he reassured himself that quiet simplicity could be eloquent. Even silence could.
他还是接受了将永远处于漂泊的宿命。但有一个地方确实是他的归处，在那里他可以躲避丑陋、谩骂或在某个检查站漫长的等待，那里就是他的内心世界。在那里，他让自己相信，简短、朴素的表达也可以有说服力。即使是沉默不语。
