anonymous gunman

Not soon after Columbus had invented America
a rifle was born in blood.
From then on, the gunman went
to South America,
to Africa,
to Asia.
While the savage was plowing,
the very cultivated man shot into the air suddenly and intentionally
it was gunman …
it was gunman …

From then on,
the gunman has been aiming at the breast of the Red Indians.
the gunman has been pressing against the backs of the blacks.
Bluntly the gunman started to shoot the “savages” dead.
From then on the gunman,
like the veteran of the Second World War, has been pretending to feel bitter the world
From then on the gunman,
has been barren like the land mine left by the war.

From then on
the gunman showed up in the presence of Bogyoke Aung San and
shot everything into pieces as the old furniture.

The gunman
fired Martin Luther King as a bull.
The gunman
fired Kennedy as a bag of wheat.
The gunman
did shoot Gandhi as an empty card box.
The gunman
did fire Aquino’s head as an apple,
did make Indira Gandhi into pieces as a bunch of flowers,
did tear Yitzhak Rabin into pieces as piece of paper,

From then on
the place where the gunman has never been to is no longer world.
Those who the gunman did not fire bowed their heads.
Only gun changed, the gunman remains unchanged.
Time flies, but the gunman is still young.

One day the gunman
lied in wait for John Lennon like a wild cat.
One day
when the gunman came into the school to hunt,
you yourself might be a huge chunk of meat he shouldered and went out.

A lawyer of human right was fired at the back.
The environmentalist was killed on the spot.
A journalist’s liver burst out.
The gunman has been searching for those who were shot slightly.
The gunman has been hunting your calf bone.
The gunman has been seeking your campus.

Yesterday the gunman was at Sule.
Last night the gunman was in Damascus.
Soon the gunman will be in Kabul.
Later the gunman will be in Winemaw.
in Laiza,
in Palestine,
in Myitkyina,
in the dark of the world with flies,
in the nauseating light.
The place where the gunman will not get to is no longer the world.
Those who are not shot by the gunman are bowing their heads.
Now in order to fire into my palate,
the gunman might be seeking even my mouth.

Zaw Lusane
Translated from the Burmese by Ke` Su Thar