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Foreign Song

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To bomb them,
we mustn’t have heard their music
or known their waterless night watch,
we mustn’t have seen how already
the desert was under constant death bells
ringing over sleeping cribs and dry wells.
We couldn’t have wanted
this eavesdropping
of names we’ve never pronounced
praying themselves towards death.
I try to believe in us—
we must not
have heard
their music.

Source: Poetry (November 2012)

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This poem originally appeared in the November 2012 issue of Poetry magazine

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Foreign Song

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