
Introduction: “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
“Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish first appeared in 1964 in his early poetry collection Awraq al-Zaytoun (Olive Leaves), emerging as one of the most powerful articulations of Palestinian identity under occupation. The poem became widely popular because of its bold, declarative refrain—“Write down! / I am an Arab”—which asserts dignity and self-definition in the face of systemic erasure and oppression. Darwish’s speaker grounds his identity in ancestral continuity, noting that his “roots / were entrenched before the birth of time / … before the pines, and the olive trees,” a reminder of the deep historical presence of Palestinians in their land. The poem also exposes socioeconomic marginalization through everyday imagery: working “at a quarry,” feeding his children “bread, garments and books from the rocks,” and living in “a watchman’s hut / made of branches and cane.” Its popularity stems from this blend of personal testimony and collective resistance, culminating in the fierce warning—“Beware… / of my hunger / and my anger!”—which encapsulates the desperation and resolve of a dispossessed people. Through simple yet resonant language, Darwish transforms the bureaucratic instrument of an identity card into a lyrical protest against occupation, injustice, and dehumanization.
Text: “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
Write down!
I am an Arab
And my identity card number is fifty thousand
I have eight children
And the ninth will come after a summer
Will you be angry?
Write down!
I am an Arab
Employed with fellow workers at a quarry
I have eight children
I get them bread
Garments and books from the rocks…
I do not supplicate charity at your doors
Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber
So will you be angry?
Write down!
I am an Arab
I have a name without a title
Patient in a country
Where people are enraged
My roots
Were entrenched before the birth of time
And before the opening of the eras
Before the pines, and the olive trees
And before the grass grew
My father … descends from the family of the plough
Not from a privileged class
And my grandfather … was a farmer
Neither well-bred, nor well-born!
Teaches me the pride of the sun
Before teaching me how to read
And my house is like a watchman’s hut
Made of branches and cane
Are you satisfied with my status?
I have a name without a title!
Write down!
I am an Arab
You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors
And the land which I cultivated
Along with my children
And you left nothing for us
Except for these rocks …
So will the State take them
As it has been said?!
Therefore!
Write down on the top of the first page:
I do not hate people
Nor do I encroach
But if I become hungry
The usurper’s flesh will be my food
Beware …
Beware …
Of my hunger
And my anger!
Annotations: “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
| Line / Stanza | Annotation | Literary Devices |
| “Write down! / I am an Arab” | A defiant assertion of identity; the command challenges colonial authority and transforms a bureaucratic act into resistance. | Repetition 🔁, Imperative Mood ⚠️, Identity Assertion 🪪 |
| “And my identity card number is fifty thousand” | Shows reduction of a human being to a number; highlights dehumanization by the state. | Symbolism 🔢, Irony 😐 |
| “I have eight children / And the ninth will come after a summer” | Presents fertility and continuity of Palestinian life; assertion of hope despite oppression. | Foreshadowing 🌤️, Symbolism 👶, Resilience 🌱 |
| “Employed with fellow workers at a quarry” | Depicts harsh labor conditions and working-class dignity; rootedness in land through physical toil. | Realism 🛠️, Imagery 👁️ |
| “I get them bread / Garments and books from the rocks” | Rocks symbolize both hardship and resistance; links survival to the land itself. | Metaphor 🪨, Imagery 📘, Symbolism 🌄 |
| “I do not supplicate charity at your doors” | Declares dignity and refusal to submit; rejects colonial power structures. | Defiance ✊, Tone (Proud) 🦁 |
| “I have a name without a title” | Expresses dispossession, social marginalization, and erasure of status under occupation. | Symbolism 🏷️, Irony 🎭 |
| “My roots / Were entrenched before the birth of time” | Establishes timeless connection to land; ancestral claim predating history. | Hyperbole 🚀, Ancestral Imagery 🌳, Metaphor 🕰️ |
| “Before the pines and the olive trees / And before the grass grew” | Uses natural imagery to emphasize historical precedence of Palestinians. | Imagery 🍃, Symbolism 🕊️, Parallelism 📏 |
| “My father… descends from the family of the plough / …and my grandfather was a farmer” | Shows lineage of humble, hardworking people connected to the soil. | Symbolism 🌾, Pastoral Imagery 🐑, Ethos 🧭 |
| “Teaches me the pride of the sun / Before teaching me how to read” | Sun symbolizes dignity, enlightenment, national pride; identity precedes formal education. | Metaphor ☀️, Symbolism ✨, Contrast ⚖️ |
| “My house is like a watchman’s hut / Made of branches and cane” | Highlights poverty and vulnerability; mirrors precarious existence under occupation. | Simile 🟰, Imagery 🏚️, Symbolism 🌿 |
| “You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors / And the land which I cultivated” | Direct accusation of dispossession; agricultural imagery emphasizes stolen heritage. | Accusation 🎯, Imagery 🍊, Metaphor 🌍 |
| “And you left nothing for us / Except for these rocks” | Rocks symbolize both barrenness imposed by occupation and resilience of the people. | Symbolism 🪨, Contrast 🌓, Irony 😶 |
| “I do not hate people / Nor do I encroach” | Asserts moral high ground; resistance is justified, not driven by hatred. | Tone (Measured) 🎼, Ethos 🧭 |
| “But if I become hungry / The usurper’s flesh will be my food” | Extreme metaphor revealing desperation; hunger symbolizes both physical need and political deprivation. | Metaphor 🍖, Threat ⚔️, Hyperbole 💥 |
| “Beware… Beware… / Of my hunger / And my anger!” | Climactic warning; represents collective uprising of an oppressed people. | Repetition 🔁, Foreshadowing 🔮, Tone (Warning) 🚨 |
Literary And Poetic Devices: “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
| Device | Definition | Example from Poem | Detailed Explanation |
| 1. Repetition 🔁 | Reuse of key words or lines for emphasis and rhythm. | “Write down!” repeated several times. | Repetition transforms the poem into a political chant. Each “Write down!” asserts the speaker’s identity and forces the oppressive authority to acknowledge his existence. |
| 2. Anaphora 🎙️ | Repetition at the beginning of successive lines for impact. | “I am an Arab…” opens multiple stanzas. | The continuous re-stating of identity highlights pride and resistance. It resists erasure by asserting the same line repeatedly, almost like reclaiming identity from occupation. |
| 3. Symbolism 🎨 | Using an object or phrase to represent larger meanings. | “Identity card number is fifty thousand” | The card becomes a symbol of bureaucratic control and dispossession—reducing a full human life to a numerical label. |
| 4. Imagery 🌄 | Descriptive language that appeals to senses. | “I get them bread, garments and books from the rocks” | Creates vivid images of hardship, physical labor, and perseverance. It evokes the harsh, rocky landscape of Palestine and the struggle to survive. |
| 5. Metaphor 🔥 | A comparison without “like” or “as.” | “My roots were entrenched before the birth of time” | Compares identity to deep roots without explicitly saying so. Suggests ancient connection to land, making the dispossession even more unjust. |
| 6. Hyperbole 💥 | Extreme exaggeration for emphasis. | “Before the opening of the eras” | Emphasizes timeless belonging, highlighting Palestinian roots as older than recorded time—demonstrating a historical claim to homeland. |
| 7. Irony 🎭 | Contradiction between expectation and reality. | “I do not supplicate charity at your doors” | Irony lies in the speaker being oppressed yet declaring dignity. It mocks the occupier’s expectation that he should appear needy or submissive. |
| 8. Personification 🌿 | Giving human qualities to non-human elements. | “Before the pines, and the olive trees” | Nature is presented as a historical witness, conveying that the speaker’s identity predates even the natural environment—strengthening his ancestral claim. |
| 9. Parallelism 📏 | Balanced repetition of phrase structure. | “I do not hate people / Nor do I encroach” | Highlights moral clarity and innocence. Reinforces the contrast between the speaker’s morality and the usurper’s aggression. |
| 10. Alliteration 🎵 | Repetition of initial consonant sounds. | “Fellow workers at a quarry” | Adds musical rhythm and creates a smooth flow in a poem that otherwise expresses harsh realities. |
| 11. Tone (Defiant) ⚔️ | The poet’s emotional attitude toward the subject. | “Beware of my hunger and my anger!” | Tone shifts from calm to threatening. This transformation is a response to oppression, illustrating psychological and emotional escalation. |
| 12. Apostrophe 📣 | Direct address to someone not present or unable to respond. | “Write down!” addressed to officials. | Speaks directly to the authorities, demanding they record his identity. The poem becomes a confrontation—a one-sided dialogue of resistance. |
| 13. Epistrophe 🔚 | Repetition at the end of lines or phrases. | “Will you be angry?” repeated. | Reinforces the absurdity of the oppressor’s anger at the speaker’s mere existence and survival. |
| 14. Allusion 🕊️ | Indirect reference to cultural or historical symbols. | “Olive trees” | Olive trees symbolize Palestine, heritage, peace, and resistance. They carry cultural and historical connotations for the Palestinian identity. |
| 15. Enjambment ➡️ | Breaking a sentence across lines without a pause. | “My roots / Were entrenched before the birth of time” | Creates a sense of flowing continuity—mirroring the uninterrupted lineage and connection to the land. |
| 16. Juxtaposition ⚖️ | Placing two opposing ideas side by side. | “I have a name without a title” | Contrasts identity (a “name”) with lack of privilege (“no title”). Shows dignity despite social or political marginalization. |
| 17. Allegory 🗺️ | A narrative representing a broader meaning or political message. | Entire poem reflects Palestinian resistance. | The speaker becomes a symbolic representative of all Palestinians who face displacement, injustice, and identity erasure. |
| 18. Mythic Time Scale ⏳ | Using ancient or timeless imagery to express permanence. | “Before the birth of time” | Elevates Palestinian roots to the level of myth and legend—claiming an eternal presence that cannot be invalidated. |
| 19. Threat / Prophetic Warning ⚡ | Foreshadowing consequences of injustice. | “The usurper’s flesh will be my food” | A metaphorical warning: extreme oppression will breed resistance. It expresses a survival instinct in a dehumanizing environment. |
| 20. Simile ✨ | Comparison using “like” or “as.” | “My house is like a watchman’s hut” | Shows the poverty and vulnerability of the speaker’s home—simple, exposed, and lacking security—highlighting injustice and displacement. |
Themes: “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
1. 🪪 Identity and Self-Assertion
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, the theme of identity and self-assertion emerges through the poem’s insistent refrain—“Write down! / I am an Arab”—which transforms a bureaucratic act into a powerful declaration of existence, dignity, and resistance. Darwish constructs an identity that is neither passive nor silent, but one that insists on being recorded, recognized, and respected even in the face of hostile authority. This identity is not merely personal but collective, echoing the shared experience of Palestinians who find themselves reduced to numbers—“my identity card number is fifty thousand”—yet refuse erasure. Through this assertive proclamation, the speaker challenges systems that attempt to categorize, limit, or dehumanize him, emphasizing instead a rooted, ancestral self grounded “before the birth of time.” In articulating his identity with unwavering clarity, the speaker transforms what could be an instrument of control into a vehicle for reclaiming narrative power and affirming communal belonging.
2. 🌍 Land, Roots, and Ancestral Continuity
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, the theme of land and ancestral rootedness unfolds through vivid imagery that ties the speaker’s existence to the soil, time, and generations that precede him. Darwish emphasizes an unbroken bond to the land when the speaker asserts that his “roots / were entrenched before the birth of time,” suggesting that Palestinian presence predates historical markers and political disruptions, thereby delegitimizing colonial claims of ownership. The references to the father and grandfather—figures connected to “the family of the plough” and “a farmer”—reveal a lineage shaped by agricultural labor, humility, and intimate familiarity with the land. These details elevate the land from mere geography to a repository of identity, memory, and cultural inheritance. Even deprivation—“you have stolen the orchards of my ancestors”—reinforces attachment, as dispossession becomes the very proof of belonging. Thus, the land functions not only as a physical space but as a generational anchor and moral claim.
3. ⚒️ Oppression, Economic Struggle, and Social Marginalization
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, the poem foregrounds the theme of socioeconomic struggle under occupation, portraying the speaker as a laborer who toils at a quarry to provide “bread, garments and books from the rocks” for his children. His labor symbolizes both hardship and dignity, highlighting the economic vulnerability that defines the lives of many Palestinians. Darwish presents a system in which the speaker is denied social mobility and stripped of honorifics—“I have a name without a title”—reflecting institutional marginalization imposed by a dominant political power. The poverty described through the “watchman’s hut / made of branches and cane” signifies not only material scarcity but also the precariousness of life under constant surveillance. Yet the speaker refuses humiliation—“I do not supplicate charity at your doors”—asserting agency even within oppression. This tension between deprivation and pride captures how systemic inequality shapes identity, fuels frustration, and exposes the moral bankruptcy of the occupying authority.
4. 🔥 Resistance, Anger, and the Consequences of Injustice
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, the escalating tone of resistance culminates in the powerful warning—“Beware… / of my hunger / and my anger!”—which encapsulates the theme of rebellion born from prolonged injustice. Darwish portrays resistance not as inherent violence but as a response to dispossession, poverty, and persistent dehumanization, suggesting that even a peaceful man may be pushed to desperate measures when denied dignity and survival. The metaphor—“the usurper’s flesh will be my food”—exposes the extremity of hunger, both literal and political, revealing that oppression inevitably breeds resistance when a people are pushed beyond endurance. Throughout the poem, anger emerges as a moral reaction to injustice rather than an immoral act itself, highlighting the ethical framework within which resistance is justified. Thus, Darwish frames rebellion as a natural, even inevitable, outcome of systemic oppression, positioning anger not merely as emotion but as a political force and existential necessity.
Literary Theories and “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
| Literary Theory | Application to the Poem |
| 1. 🧭 Postcolonial Theory | Postcolonial theory interprets the poem as an act of defiance against colonial domination. The repeated command “Write down! / I am an Arab” confronts the colonial authority that seeks to categorize, suppress, or erase the native identity. Darwish highlights dispossession—“You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors / And the land which I cultivated”—capturing the core postcolonial theme of land theft and cultural suppression. The speaker’s roots, “entrenched before the birth of time,” critique colonial narratives that frame the oppressor as legitimate or historically superior. Through reclaiming voice, history, and land, the poem dramatizes resistance to hegemonic power structures. |
| 2. 🌳 Marxist Theory | A Marxist reading emphasizes class struggle, labor exploitation, and material deprivation. The speaker works “with fellow workers at a quarry,” invoking the proletarian body engaged in physical labor under oppressive conditions. His assertion that he provides “bread, garments and books from the rocks” illustrates the alienation between labor and reward, as survival extracts immense labor for minimal gain. The humble origin—“My grandfather… was a farmer / Neither well-bred, nor well-born!”—reflects inherited class marginalization. The climax—“if I become hungry / the usurper’s flesh will be my food”—symbolizes revolutionary anger rising from economic injustice and systemic exploitation. |
| 3. 👤 Identity & Cultural Studies | Identity theory highlights how the poem constructs, performs, and defends Arab cultural identity. The repeated declaration “I am an Arab” becomes a cultural performance challenging systems that attempt to redefine or diminish the speaker’s selfhood. Cultural symbols—land, family lineage, farming traditions—appear in images such as “the family of the plough” and “the orchards of my ancestors.” The poem situates identity as both historical and embodied, anchored in the land, ancestry, and communal memory. When the speaker notes, “I have a name without a title,” he reveals how identity is stripped by oppressive institutions, making the poem a reclamation of cultural dignity. |
| 4. 🔥 Resistance Theory (Liberation/Political Poetics) | From the perspective of resistance literature, the poem functions as a manifesto of political defiance. The assertive tone—“I do not hate people / Nor do I encroach”—frames resistance as morally grounded rather than violent. The poem records injustices—land theft, poverty, humiliation—and transforms them into political consciousness. The final warning—“Beware… of my hunger / And my anger!”—signals the moment when oppression breeds uprising, aligning with theories of liberation that see rebellion as inevitable under prolonged dispossession. Darwish positions the oppressed subject not as a passive sufferer but as an agent capable of political retaliation when survival is threatened. |
Critical Questions about “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
1. 🪪 How does “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish use repetition to construct resistance and reclaim agency?
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, repetition functions as both a linguistic strategy and a political act through which the speaker asserts agency in the face of bureaucratic erasure. The insistent recurrence of the command “Write down! / I am an Arab” transforms a seemingly passive declaration into a weapon of resistance, turning the colonizer’s documentation process into an opportunity to vocalize dignity rather than submission. Repetition becomes an assertion of presence that cannot be silenced, especially as the poem underscores the speaker’s reduction to “identity card number… fifty thousand,” revealing how institutional systems attempt to replace identity with enumeration. By repeatedly invoking his Arab identity—alongside references to his roots “entrenched before the birth of time”—Darwish challenges the colonizer’s authority to define or diminish him. Thus, repetition reconstructs agency by making identity audible, refusing the silence imposed by occupation, and transforming a bureaucratic ritual into a defiant affirmation of existence.
2. 🌍 In what ways does “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish link personal identity to the ancestral land, and how does this connection challenge colonial narratives?
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, the intimate connection between personal identity and ancestral land becomes a counter-narrative to colonial claims of entitlement or historical legitimacy. The speaker grounds himself in a lineage that existed “before the birth of time” and “before the olive trees,” suggesting that Palestinian presence predates all temporal and political constructs introduced by settler authorities. Darwish reinforces this continuity through images of agricultural labor—“my father descends from the family of the plough” and “my grandfather was a farmer”—which frame the land not as territory to be owned but as a generational inheritance cultivated through labor and belonging. This claim becomes even more forceful when he accuses the occupier of having “stolen the orchards of my ancestors,” thereby asserting that colonial possession is theft rather than legitimacy. By binding identity to land in this historical, familial, and ethical register, Darwish dismantles colonial narratives and restores indigenous ownership.
3. ⚒️ How does the poem portray economic oppression, and what does this reveal about the political structure surrounding the speaker?
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, economic oppression appears as an integral dimension of political domination, showing how the speaker’s material hardship is not an accident of poverty but a deliberate outcome of structural inequality. The speaker works “at a quarry” and extracts “bread, garments and books from the rocks,” illustrating how survival requires immense labor in return for the bare minimum, suggesting a system engineered to keep the colonized population economically dependent and socially marginalized. His home—“a watchman’s hut / made of branches and cane”—symbolizes not only poverty but the precariousness imposed by a state that surveils rather than protects. Yet he refuses humiliation, insisting that he does not “supplicate charity at your doors,” revealing how resistance persists even under material deprivation. The poem thus exposes an oppressive political structure that weaponizes economic scarcity, using it as a tool to control identity, limit agency, and maintain a hierarchy that privileges the settler authority.
4. 🔥 What does the final warning reveal about the psychological and political consequences of prolonged injustice in “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish”?
In “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish, the final warning—“Beware… of my hunger / And my anger!”—reveals the psychological transformation of a marginalized individual into a politically awakened figure whose resistance has been shaped by accumulated injuries. Darwish suggests that prolonged injustice generates not passivity but explosive potential, as hunger becomes both a literal symbol of deprivation and a metaphor for political starvation, where dignity, land, and identity have been stripped away. The metaphor “the usurper’s flesh will be my food” expresses the extremity of desperation, signaling that even a peaceful man may be driven to resistance when oppression leaves no alternative. This warning is neither irrational nor gratuitous; it arises from systematic humiliation, land theft, and economic disenfranchisement. Thus, the concluding lines illuminate the psychological costs of dehumanization and assert that political violence, though regrettable, becomes an inevitable outcome when a people are pushed beyond the limits of endurance.
Literary Works Similar to “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
1. ✊ “We Refugees” by Benjamin Zephaniah
- Similarity: Like “Identity Card,” this poem voices the pain, dignity, and frustration of displaced people, asserting identity in the face of political oppression and forced migration.
2. 🌍 “Still I Rise” by Maya Angelou
- Similarity: Shares Darwish’s defiant tone; both poems confront systems of oppression and reclaim identity with pride, resilience, and unbreakable human dignity.
3. 🔥 “A Far Cry from Africa” by Derek Walcott
- Similarity: Like Darwish, Walcott explores identity, colonization, and the anguish of divided loyalties, merging personal pain with historical injustice.
Representative Quotations of “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
| Quotation | Context | Theoretical Perspective |
| “Write down! I am an Arab” ✍️🪪 | Context: The speaker begins by asserting identity against bureaucratic interrogation, transforming documentation into resistance. | Postcolonial Lens (🧭): Challenges colonial authority by reclaiming the power to define oneself; repetition becomes political defiance. |
| “My identity card number is fifty thousand” 🔢 | Context: He reveals how the state reduces him to a number, exposing bureaucratic dehumanization. | Structuralism (📘): Shows how institutional language strips individuality, turning humans into data points. |
| “I have eight children / And the ninth will come after a summer” 👶🌤️ | Context: He expresses hope and continuity despite economic hardship and oppression. | Marxist Lens (⚒️): Highlights working-class fertility and resilience in the face of material deprivation. |
| “I get them bread, garments and books from the rocks” 🪨📚 | Context: Emphasizes harsh manual labor as the only means of survival. | Marxist Lens (🔨): Reveals labor exploitation and alienation, turning “rocks” into a symbol of unjust economic structures. |
| “I have a name without a title” 🏷️ | Context: Shows enforced social marginalization and loss of honorific identity. | Identity Theory (👤): Examines how oppressive systems erase cultural and social markers of dignity. |
| “My roots were entrenched before the birth of time” 🌳🕰️ | Context: Declares ancestral presence predating political borders and occupation. | Postcolonial Lens (🧭): Counters colonial historical narratives by asserting timeless indigenous belonging. |
| “My father descends from the family of the plough” 🌾 | Context: Establishes generational connection to the land through agricultural labor. | Cultural Studies (🎭): Highlights heritage, humility, and authenticity as sources of identity and pride. |
| “You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors” 🍊⚠️ | Context: Direct accusation of land theft and historic dispossession by colonial forces. | Postcolonial Resistance (🔥): Frames occupation as theft and asserts moral claims to land. |
| “You left nothing for us except for these rocks” 🪨😔 | Context: Expresses the totality of dispossession; even barren land is taken. | Resistance Studies (🚩): Shows how deprivation fuels collective anger and heightens political consciousness. |
| “Beware… of my hunger and my anger!” ⚠️🔥 | Context: The poem’s climax; the oppressed issues a warning born of desperation. | Liberation Theory (✊): Hunger becomes a metaphor for political starvation, suggesting resistance is inevitable under sustained injustice. |
Suggested Readings: “Identity Card” by Mahmoud Darwish
📚 Books
- Mattawa, Khaled. Mahmoud Darwish: The Poet’s Art and His Nation. Syracuse University Press, 2014.
- Darwish, Mahmoud. Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: Selected Poems. University of California Press, 2003.
📝 Academic Articles
- Dayan, Mariam R., and Ahmed M. Al-Hawtali. “The Impact of Mahmoud Darwish’s Diasporic Identity on His Poetry: A Post-colonial Study of Selected Poems.” International Journal of Modern Languages and Applied Linguistics, vol. 9, no. 3, 2025.
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/393253282_The_Impact_of_Mahmoud_Darwish%27s_Diasporic_Identity_on_His_Poetry_A_Post-colonial_Study_of_Selected_Poems - Khan, Muhammad Ajmal. “Concord between Palestinian Resistance and Literature: A Historico-Literary Analysis of Darwish’s Works.” Review of Education, Administration and Law (REAL), vol. 4, no. 1, 2021, pp. 101–112.
https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/28c2/30b06b0aa12cdbe461806502335e452e2c77.pdf
🌐 Poem Websites
- “Identity Card.” Marxists Internet Archive, 1964.
https://www.marxists.org/subject/art/literature/darwish/1964/identity-card.htm - “Identity Card by Mahmoud Darwish.” PoemHunter.
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/identity-card/