Collective Death - Ghassan Zaqtan

Evening didn’t come without its darkness

we slept roofless but with cover

and no survivor came in the night

to tell us of the death of others.

The roads kept whistling

and the place was packed with the murdered ...

who came from the neighboring quarter

whose screams escaped toward us.

We saw and heard

the dead walk on air

tied by the thread of their shock

their rustle pulling our bodies

off our glowing straw mats.

A glistening blade

kept falling over the roads.

The women gave birth only to those who passed

and the women will not


© Ghassan Zaqtan


Bu şiir, Onur Çalı tarafından Türkçeleştirilerek Gard-9'da yer almıştır.