A random hostage with a shot-through forehead,
I continue to live, having accepted the pain,
Having shared suffering with a people not finished off,
With shards of dreams and hopes.

Once again I receive a bullet
Not in the chest, not in the leg, but again in the brow,
And at the edge of consciousness I clearly hear:
“What to do with him so that he would NOT be?”

And Abel is omnipresent here too —
Whoever hits me, kills himself.
It turns out I am immortal —
The murdered one truly lives.