Victim Number 48

Victim Number 48

Mahmoud Darwish Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. They found in his chest a lamp of roses and a moon And he thrown dead upon the stones. In his pocket they found a few piastres, A box of matches, a travel pass, And tattoo marks upon his young arm. His mother missed him, Mourned him year after year. Boxthorn sprouted in his eyes And darkness thickened. When his brother grew up And went looking for work in the city’s markets They put in prison: He carried no travel pass. All he carried in the street was a box of garbage And other boxes. So, children of my country, Thus did the moon die.