In a year unnumbered,
in a town unnamed,
a violence arises in the night.

Set in motion by God's own hand,
it tears down, casts out.
The fulfillment of a vow.

They conceal mines in the rubble,
so no dog dare come . . .
Then a prayer of thanks.

And thus four hundred times.

Then comes the truth,
and she lies down, in the middle,
between the town and the tents.

She lies at the right distance;
no refugee gets around her.

In the new school,
children sing and dance.

Fathers watch, full of pride,
gun in hand.