Vox Populi:

Translated by Saleh Razzouk and Philip Terman

We are not iron, O God, so that we can be melted down every year. We are not copper or lead that they fire among the armies and leave behind after the end of the war as mere ammunition and ashes. We are not stones, O Lord, that soldiers demolish on their daughters’ birthdays. We were created to die, yes, but once, not a thousand times. We were created to have a house around us, not us around the house searching for the remains of our flesh. Are you not the Lord of hosts, the Lord of servants, the Lord of houses, and the Lord of trees? Why, Lord, in every war are we in the wrong place? No fire to bake the loaf for us, and no wine to forget? We are not iron, O God, so that we can be smelted every year, but O God, even iron has one shine and it has rust! Lord tell me: what’s wrong?

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