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
