Гимн

           Theytoretheclothesfromourbody,theythrewusdownuponourkneesandtheytiedourhandstotheironpost.Thefirstblowofthelashfeltasifourspinehadbeencutintwo.Thesecondblowstoppedthefirst,andforasecondwefeltnothing,thenthepainstruckusinourthroatandfireraninourlungswithoutair.Butwedidnotcryout.

           Thelashwhistledlikeasingingwind.Wetriedtocounttheblows,butwelostcount.Weknewthattheblowswerefallinguponourback.Onlywefeltnothinguponourbackanylonger.Aflaminggrillkeptdancingbeforeoureyes,andwethoughtofnothingsavethatgrill,agrill,agrillofredsquares,andthenweknewthatwewerelookingatthesquaresoftheirongrillinthedoor,andtherewerealsothesquaresofstoneonthewalls,andthesquareswhichthelashwascuttinguponourback,crossingandre-crossingitselfinourflesh.

           Thenwesawafistbeforeus.Itknockedourchinup,andwesawtheredfrothofourmouthonthewitheredfingers,andtheJudgeasked:

           “Wherehaveyoubeen?”

           Butwejerkedourheadaway,hidourfaceuponourtiedhands,andbitourlips.

           Thelashwhistledagain.Wewonderedwhowassprinklingburningcoaldustuponthefloor,forwesawdropsofredtwinklingonthestonesaroundus.

           Thenweknewnothing,savetwovoicessnarlingsteadily,oneaftertheother,eventhoughweknewtheywerespeakingmanyminutesapart:

           “Wherehaveyoubeenwherehaveyoubeenwherehaveyoubeenwherehaveyoubeen?...”

           Andourlipsmoved,butthesoundtrickledbackintoourthroat,andthesoundwasonly:

           “Thelight...Thelight...