Life~sated rage~sated fear~sated
Still standing erect, a "turia" beside him
Calling the trees by their names and no reply.
Even they. What should he do. He'll tear a couch~grass
And wave it as his last flag and start
Counting. Maybe
A Russian curse would help. He used to seek
Other names for God. They'd dried up in his mouth before
He spat them to the ground.
Maybe he loved them as manure because of the smell.
Later he curses, already dried dung, slowly became
Road marks. What road. Was there one or not, he tried to walk
Till he stopped burned~out on the spot
Life~sated rage~sated fear~
Sated, by the "turia" building himself like a tomb stone
For himself and for the road which fiiled his mouth
Because of what
Translator's Note: Turia is a kind of Israeli mattock.