The soldier the patrol forgot in the garden,
the patrol the border guards forgot at the checkpoint,
the checkpoint the occupation forgot at the doorstep,
the occupation the politician forgot in our lives,
the politician who was a soldier of the occupation.
The Merkava the army forgot at the school,
the army the war forgot in the city,
the war the general forgot in the room,
the general whom peace forgot in our sleep,
the peace that was driving the Merkava.
They still open fire at our heads,
just like that,
out of habit.
(translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah)