Later we will have to reinvent the words.

So far this stake in my chest is nameless,

But for as long as I am alive

Draw the dark force directly from me.

The stones of cities. The night bodies of missiles.

And rage trumpets through the bones amidst the chaos

And there’s the taste of water. And the light is still the one

In which we cuddled and smiled

And the revenge is already ripe for sowing.

Lord has carried two suitcases from the house

To love, to be, to survive, to kill.

We are a bit akin to the field. A bit to the nearby forest

And to this earth from which everything flourishes.

The stubborn blood that will rip the bandage off the wound

And flow like river through the steppe

To pour into the sea.

We are memory.

But here where we stand

Nothing remains behind us.

Look, this is love. I am still alive.

This is the time when everything receives a name.

Here is the shelter in the very heart of the language

Into which you will enter.