Bread by Mahmoud Darwish From early dusk the day was inscrutableThe sun shows up, lazy as usualA mineral ash, eastward, blocks the horizon. . .In the veins of cloudsIn household pipesThe water was hard. . .A desperate autumn in the life of BeirutDeath spread from the palaceto the radio to the salesman of sexTo the vegetable marketWhat is it wakes you now?Exactly five o’clockAnd thirty people killedGo back to sleepIt is a… Read More