On the sewage puddles of Sabra and Shatila there you transferred masses of human beings worthy of respect from the world of the living to the world of the dead. Night after night. First they shot then they hung and finally slaughtered with knives. Terrified women rushed up from over the dust hills: "There they slaughter us in Shatila." A narrow tail of the new moon hung above the camps. Our soldiers illuminated the place with flares like daylight. "Back to the camps, March!" the soldier commanded the screaming women of Sabra and Shatila. He had orders to follow, And the children were already laid in the puddles of waste, their mouths open, at rest. No one will harm them. A baby can't be killed twice. And the tail of the moon filled out until it turned into a loaf of whole gold. Our dear sweet soldiers, asked nothing for themselvesβ how strong was their hunger to return home in peace.
Translated from the original Hebrew by Karen Alkalay-Gut.