Log Cabin Chronicles
Three Colours
ELISHA PORAT
On Memorial Day I make my way up to the small military cemetery. In the northwestern corner we've placed a grey basalt rock and facing the southern corner- a blanching chunk of chalk. And in between under the loose sand our red loam spreads itself all round.
And when the loudspeaker booms out the memorial prayer I close my eyes and see those three colours descend before me and disappear into the encroaching shadow of the stones.
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Translated into English by Seymour Mayne
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