After the roads
In the shade of a wall, I rest my burdens
after I have crossed the roads
and the eternal storm
wailing in my head’s grottos
is finally content with silence
beneath the wing of a vulture
fallen in the ruins
where the crime happened…
The wolf hovers around
near the camps of wounded:
In his eyes a thicket of claws
but a star might appear.
A faithful star might appear for us.
To A Visitor after the Apocalypse
If you come knocking
at the end of history’s night
on the door
and the butchers are asleep
over their victims’ shreds
If you finally come
to fulfill the dream
of the wounded miserables
with your blessings
after the flood recedes
and the last cries of war. . .
And if an Eve, rubbing her eyes, sleepy
opens up
Then shove Eve aside
kick (and hit!)
the serpent’s head
so that it returns
to the Torah’s cave in haste
Then stab your cigarette stub
between Adam’s lips
and ask this creature:
“Why?”
And begin the interrogation…
From Sargon Boulus’s (1944-2007) al-Awwal wal-Tali (Cologne: Dar al-Jamal, 1992)