<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=124987" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Hunger Camp At Jaslo</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Write it. Write. In ordinary ink<br>on ordinary paper: they were given no food,<br>they all died of hunger. "All. How many?<br>It's a big meadow. How much grass<br>for each one?" Write: I don't know.<br>History counts its skeletons in round numbers.<br>A thousand and one remains a thousand,<br>as though the one had never existed:<br>an imaginary embryo, an empty cradle,<br>an ABC never read,<br>air that laughs, cries, grows,<br>emptiness running down steps toward the garden,<br>nobody's place in the line.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We stand in the meadow where it became flesh,<br>and the meadow is silent as a false witness.<br>Sunny. Green. Nearby, a forest<br>with wood for chewing and water under the bark-<br>every day a full ration of the view<br>until you go blind. Overhead, a bird-<br>the shadow of its life-giving wings<br>brushed their lips. Their jaws opened.<br>Teeth clacked against teeth.<br>At night, the sickle moon shone in the sky<br>and reaped wheat for their bread.<br>Hands came floating from blackened icons,<br>empty cups in their fingers.<br>On a spit of barbed wire,<br>a man was turning.<br>They sang with their mouths full of earth.<br>"A lovely song of how war strikes straight<br>at the heart." Write: how silent.<br>"Yes."</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wislawa+Szymborska">Wislawa Szymborska</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=124987" data-title="Hunger Camp At Jaslo de Wislawa Szymborska" data-description="Write it. Write. In ordinary ink/on ordinary paper: they were given no food,/they all died of hunger. "All. How many?/It's a big meadow. How much grass/for each one?" Write: I don't know./History counts its skeletons in round numbers./A thousand a..."></div> </div> </div>

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