On The Massacre Of Children

A.

Small children locked eyes to eyes
and spoke to one another, and another to one
in the silent, noisy language of death.
I couldn’t understand a thing—
children of tender years
and more tender deaths.
So said the poet:
neither Hebrew nor Arabic,
nor any other language—
slaughtered children have no tongues
as the heavens will bear witness.
And it seemed that they spoke
and I could not understand,
children of tender years
and more tender deaths.
So said the poet:
God in Heaven
who understands doubly
all things You made in Your wisdom—
Your wisdom is beyond me.
I do not accuse you.

B.

And for a moment the things
that must not be forgotten
are forgotten:
man has reason,
animal has a brain,
but I am not sure
for whom it would be easier
when the poet exposes
the cruel secret of death.
Death here, death there—
a boy here, a girl there—
torn in their lives and in their deaths.
This is the crying that has not begun;
this is the crying that has no end.

Translation by Karen Alkalay-Gut

Previously published in the Jerusalem Review