Beneath the Lampstand

Day or night,
the same words circle,
colliding—
each phrase pushing,
each phrase striking,
until someone slips,
and another’s future is born.
 
To live, one must fight,
having entered this country by birth,
dragged into every battle,
forced to carry oneself
only for oneself.
 
Beneath the lampstand
sits the ash-covered one,
alone.
And alone he walks the path,
evading all—
the fraud, the blow,
the endless trickery of days.
 
Morning, evening, twilight—
the trap of words surrounds,
the riddles of the world
entangle life entire.