My Supper is bread from the bombshell, A drip of water, a share of water. The boundaries between neighbors and relatives are erased... There are only people who don’t care. My soul is at Buchi-Gethsemane, De will was stripped naked. I read in the pre-light fog, And under your feet there are bones and ash. The election was made at the court of the high priest: “Iz kim ti buv?” - it sounded like a refrain. And I got angry... It hurt even more, that The songs sang with the voice of sirens. My Golgotha was vibukha and shot. In the broken windows there is a black fear. The powdered apostles are wandering Mayors in sleeping places. My Emmaus is the refugee’s fate, The end of hope, the road without snow. Everything that didn’t perish was scattered. I, broken, built bridges... My life is a Jerusalem upper room: Get the kids behind two walls! It’s too long to burn before your hands, And reach out to my heart. What will happen after all the laws? Three days? Three rocks? Is it true ours? A great day is coming over the terikons! A great day is upon us!
