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Who will tell the sun about my landmy harried medlar treemy springtime without nervures my helpful hand

— Djamal Amrani

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More quotes by Djamal Amrani

He loved the humble, set tenderness free Devoured the past

When our joy tells the beads of present freedoms

His face—mirror of cruelties—where a chorus of cries
Fuses our hope, sharpens our freedom

Who will recount my rootless garden and my door opento all comers

Here where each day calls out to our suffering
Here where each step chains our desire for hope

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Quote text and notes from Wikiquote: Djamal Amrani (page history), available under CC BY-SA 4.0. Source quality and labels are our own summary of what Wikiquote records.