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A Year Nasser Rabah Translated by Wiam El-Tamami It’s been a year since I’ve heard singing in the street, seen someone dancing at a wedding; a school bus coming or going; a flower passed from one hand to another. For a year we’ve been passing around the hateful cake of war. Not a child left out, nor a garden, a book, a wish. By day, we train our eyes to swim in blood and not get wet. We train them to miscount our missing limbs.
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