I. In the desertThereis nothing in the desertnot even a grain of sandjust the bands of eons written in the rockthere is nothing in the desert—save the pain of the prophetshaggard, limping it climbs the cliffsthere is nothing in the desert—save the Bedouinsblack goats grazing in dried-up riverbeds.May 1991II. JerusalemAlways white and gold—blood that's spilled heredoesn't leave a markon the whitest stone.Eight gatesthrough which will he enteron donkey or helicopterwhen they arise from the Mount of Oliveswho will know them and who will believe?Meanwhile a run-in and short stepsVenetian blinds are closed—a strike.Here a French tourist got itwith a knife.And there, beneath the Wall,an eternal cry.June 1991III. The Children's Hall in the Museum of Martyrdom Yad Vashem in JerusalemSo this is how my cousins’ grave lookshere in this earth they never sawthe nameless memory after them restshere they found a gravewherever they diedin Lwów in Krakówwhere their father's fatherhad been bornwhere their dismaymelted off in smokedripped into the groundwhere their boyish tracks like rainwere washed away by streams of obliviontheir namesreturn here on an echo.June 1991IV. Another about JerusalemUnder the wallover the wallbehind the wallsame crysame fearsame painbut only us in numbersand as many old splinters in the handas dried sobs in the larynx.31 August 1991V. To a Friend in HaifaMediterranean Sea in the windowand who needs morewhy does the North return—Arcadia austerewhy herewhere every bud takes rootstill you're like a seedthat fell on stone.June 1991VI. With this songA forgotten hit from the old daysSzczecin's white seagullthrew us back to that worldput us back on the scentof forgotten alleys and gardens.Who was innocentwho believed in innocencewho pretended to be innocent— white seagull you alone stayed innocentwith the chaste purity of kitschWhite seagull fly with this songto your native land so far—both of us sang in Haifia.Wherever the seagull's flownfrom socialism's pop chartswe've flown fartherfartherwith this song.July 20, 1991VII. CaesareaIs it possiblethat in the very placewhere Herod peedJews and Romanswhere the Crusaders bravely took a leakthe Turkish sultan, the sultan's horseswe, watching the remains of ancient wallsare peeing too?June 1991Editor's note: The cycle “Wiersze izraelskie” [Israel poems] was originally published in Anna Frajlich, Ogrodem i ogrodzeniem (Warsaw: Czytelnik, 1993).
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