Between Two Cells Yasser Khanjer (bio) Translated from the Arabic (Syria) by Marilyn Hacker For Mazen Darwish, and all the prisoners of the Syrian regime I hear your voice light up the next celland the question occurs to meWhere does the guard change his clotheswhen he goes from your cell to mine?How does he shift the letters on his lipswithout one of the two "enemy" languages breaking—a language in despair since its creation,gloomy since infancy, lameobliquedeceitfulthat manages, once it's beautified itselfto trap its neighbor, enthralledin undoing the good-luck charms of its childhood—a language with malleable meaningsengrossed by the charms of exegesis,barefoot, like a dancer bent backward,her anklets linking the text's footto the sultan's desire.How does he change the letters on his lips,a guard who pronounces words badlywhen he goes from my cell to yours? * Are you smoking?Reach your hand out between the bars [End Page 12] I'll light your cigarette for you,the last one in the packInhale its smoke in secretso the guard doesn't take it away.The light here is dim,no star knows this wounded horizon.Draw up a little sunlight from your heart,it will gouge out the eye of darkness * The guard's face here, root of a chronic deathand mirror of a massacre there.The guard's face there, bloody with defeatshe only describes in secret.Since he hasn't learned the role of victimhe dresses in his wolf costumeto hunt down a letter in a poem and riddle it with wounds.The guard's face there,memory of a surrender heavy with stories * To the guards here and there, a weakness like dry grassif each one wasn't leaning on a riflethat stands guard over the dunes of his fear,a confession throbbing in a song.And if they exchange a few insultsthe aim is clear,they are only juggling masks.They are a pair of twins,they have one umbilical cord,there where their shadow fell on the eartha slaughter follows a slaughter. * [End Page 13] hear your voice, the brushing of pine needlesas it climbs the steps of prayerthen exhales the perfectly baked bread of freedomtoward a heart open to the winds To the prisoners here and those therea single heartthat gets drunk on a breath of freedom * I have comrades in prisonwho turn each night, penitent, toward pillows of hopeHunger devours themThirst withers themyet they persist in adorning the hip of our shattered agewith a flock of freed birds [End Page 14] Yasser Khanjer Yasser Khanjer was born in 1977 in the occupied Golan Heights. He spent seven years of his twenties in prison for resisting the Israeli occupation. His first collection of poems, Freedom Bird, was published in Beirut during his imprisonment; two others followed, and a fourth book It Is Not Midway, is forthcoming from Al-Mutawassit Publications in Milan. A bilingual Arabic/English collection, Wounds of the Cloud, was published in al-Quds/Jerusalem this year. Marilyn Hacker Marilyn Hacker is the author of thirteen books of poems, including A Stranger's Mirror (Norton) and Names (Norton), and an essay collection, Unauthorized Voices (Michigan). Her translations from the French include Marie Etienne's King of a Hundred Horsemen (Farrar Strauss and Giroux), which received the PEN Award for Poetry in Translation and Emmanuel Moses's Preludes and Fugues (Oberlin). For her own work, she received the PEN Voelcker Award for poetry. She lives in Paris. Copyright © 2018 University of Nebraska Press