{"id":554,"date":"2018-03-28T09:09:32","date_gmt":"2018-03-28T07:09:32","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dichterfanfryslan.nl\/?page_id=554\/"},"modified":"2019-12-16T11:33:38","modified_gmt":"2019-12-16T10:33:38","slug":"malta-the-assassinated-day","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/dichterfanfryslan.nl\/en\/poems\/eeltsje-hettinga\/malta-the-assassinated-day\/","title":{"rendered":"Malta \u2013 the Assassinated Day"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u2018There are crooks everywhere you look now,<\/em>
\nthe situation is desperate.\u2019 Journalist <\/em>
\nDaphne Caruana Galizia (1964-2017), murdered<\/em>
\nnot far from Valletta, Leeuwarden\u2019s dark sister city.<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Under a moon full-grown and white
\nlike a wild potato gone mad,<\/p>\n

a man sits, half in darkness,
\nalone and smoking on his veranda,<\/p>\n

floor strewn with advertising,
\nnewspapers and brochures about temples<\/p>\n

and cities and five-star hotels.
\nBut grim is the news driven<\/p>\n

by the machinery of death, the island
\nlays bare its whitewashed tombs.<\/p>\n

A single bomb blew a car almost
\nover the mountains and left the tongue<\/p>\n

that made life hell for Malta\u2019s mafia
\ndead and charred. Like crows<\/p>\n

the potato sacks took wing over hills
\nclosely planted with seed potatoes from<\/p>\n

Het Bildt. Ai, watch your back, Jack,
\nnow night has fallen in Europe.<\/p>\n

In the valley of death they torched the word
\nthe way they once slid books into the flames.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Translation: David Colmer<\/em><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n