May 21 1982

Four Poems on War and Peace
Translated by Judith Dickman

A.
In a small garden not far from my home there's a marble table with the names of dead soldiers on it, written clearly and in order, one after the other like a list of tenants at the entrance of a large, empty building.

B.
I think about that redheaded man. who fell here, and of his husky-voiced wife.
I think about the husky-voiced wife of the man who died years ago.
And I think how that husky-voiced wife is now a quiet woman.
The real abortions are those who die in war:
Against that there is no protest.

C.
Once a bomb exploded next to a butcher shop: the slaughtered meat was butchered again and again, but it doesn't hurt anymore and there's hardly any blood.

D.
I am a racist for peace: blue eyes murder black ones slay curly hair devastates straight hair destroys dark skins rip my flesh fair ones shed my blood. Only those of no color only the transparent are good; they let me sleep at night without terror and look through them to see the sky