Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
I shut down the news networks.
I don’t watch TV or read newspapers.
Because I fear the sight
Of beautiful cities turned to scorched earth,
Of countless lives extinguished.
I no longer write poetry—
It has become a futile pastime.
I cannot bear to confront
The cruelty of human beings.
Why must life on Earth endure such pain?
Why are Israelis allowed to kill Gazans?
Who granted them this privilege?
Ah, I do not understand.
The United Nations cannot halt the bloodshed.
The world cannot stop the killing.
A nation once welcomed the homeless,
Offering them refuge in its homeland.
Now, those same people are being destroyed.
Where is justice?
Where is God?
Children left without parents,
Wives who lose their husbands, their children.
My eyes are forced open
To witness fields of lifeless bodies.
Such cruelty—where is civilization?
How can humanity continue?
Everything feels meaningless.
A poem cannot save Gaza, Syria, or Lebanon.
Do you know why?
Because someone profits from weapons that kill.
The world must ban their creation
To stem the tide of violence,
To rebuild with wisdom and compassion,
Ensuring the survival of us all.
Unimaginable
Poetess: Anna Keiko
Country: China
Here is a kind of ugliness that seems reasonable
So far people have not found a language to reveal it
They do despicable things in the name of justice
and dig graves from the spine of the earth downwards.
What they hold in their arms is not their wives and children
but a murderous weapon
Gaza became a hellish city for humanity
The house was baked into biscuits by the savage wizard
Are these children that are kissed by the sun
made of plaster?
However, on another coast of the sea
someone yawned and sang carols
Plan to find nourishment on the scorched earth
After feeding it into the scorpion’s mouth,
remove the rotten parts
and turn the rest into a crown
Be Your Own Moses
Poem by Anna Keiko
You are my Christ—
so near,
just a skin’s breadth away,
yet I’ve never seen your face.
Sometimes I feel you beside me,
sometimes far, far as the air,
yet one thing never changes:
you keep faith with the Ten Commandments.
Be your own Moses.
That road stretches boundless—ah,
but it’s paved with blades and scorching stones,
your feet blistering, your body gaunt,
pressing on through storm and wind
toward the holy land of the soul.
When night falls, look around you:
three feet underground, palaces rise.
All arrivals at the sacred day
will return to zero.
And so you choose the purest path,
the most beautiful road
this world can offer—
though it has no end.
做自己的摩西
诗/Anna 惠子
你是我的基督
那样近
一层皮的遮挡
但我从未见过你模样
有时感受你在身边
有时很远，远到像空气
但唯一不变的是
你信奉并坚守十诫
做自己的摩西
那是一条无限的坦途，啊
它已经铺满刀尖滚石
发烫的双脚，贫瘠的身躯
为寻找心灵圣地，风雨前行
当黑夜扑来你看看四周吧
地下三尺全是宫殿
一切到达圣日，都将归零
于是你选择一条在当下
在人世间最纯最美的道路
尽管没有尽头
2023年5月20日早晨
