Lament of the Young Soldier Jean-Pierre Lepetit in the Mountains of Algeria

Fayad Jamis (Cuba)
translated by Kathleen Weaver

Lament of the Young Soldier Jean-Pierre Lepetit in the Mountains of Algeria
for Felix Pita Rodriguez

In my left shirt pocket
I keep my girlfriend’s picture
and a box of candies from my mother
On my shoulder is a terrible rifle
heavier each day
because with it I’m not defending my country
but killing those who want to have a country
I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to my tiled house
Some of us return to our villages sporting medals
Others in the same refrigerated truck
that brings meat and other provisions to the front

Perhaps I’ll shoot down fourteen stars from the sky
like fourteen bleeding pigeons
assassins of tenderness
of the trees of the sky
They haven’t brought me here to love
but to blast the word death
from a rifle barrel
In each of my ears they’ve stuffed
the tiny figure of a general
so I won’t hear the wild shouts
of those who fight beyond the trees
who sometimes hit the ground like tigers.

Rains efface my footprints
but not the red mark of my crime
Victorious or not
with medals or carted home on ice
there will always be
that tiny speck of blood–stained dirt.