They are talking about a new channel,
new channels of dialog,
bothering to defend themselves, issuing bulletins,
borrowing against heaven and earth.
Hikers shoot and are shot, bury
and are buried, continue to walk
and talk, tell stories, bend ears,
never shutting up for an instant.
In the middle of the endless talk, in a leaf fall
of shots, like a very empty night, I wondered if the old Turkish bath
where I met you two years ago
has not yet been blown up and is still open
in Bab Assaha, in the Nablus ghetto.
Translated from Hebrew by Lisa Katz