The Zero Hour
Ḥaya Vered
1953
You,
blood stain of land on the map,
tired you, immersed in soot and ashes,
forever a small piece of land.
And the monuments are witnesses
at every junction and at the roadsides,
and far, far from the roads.
And when the smoke screen lifts,
you celebrate intoxication and victory,
until you are enraged, rotten and limp,
until you are blind
to the…
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