Big-head lost her boy
In the war, now she’s crying
If you can hear her.

Grey-hair lost his friends
In the war, now he’s crying,
It’s too late to get new ones.

And the townsfolk left their dirty dishes
And left their cups overturned on the tables
And left dinner burning on the stove
When they heard the news and fled
As who wouldn’t?

Now it’s murky dusk.
Now comes the snow.
Now comes the wind.
Fuck! But it’s cold out!

And the townsfolk fled
Except the old men,
And the old women, and the ghosts,
And me, burning this old book
Just to get some light.

Image: Damascus – A burnt book by Magnus Halsnes, published under a Creative Commons  Attribution-NonCommercial 2.0 Generic (CC BY-NC 2.0) license.