Memory Poem by Dan Uriel

Even today, my free soul leaves
Forgetful and perhaps more beautiful songs
They offered money for a lot of revenge
The priest said, 'Son, go to the master
And I knew who would return empty-handed,
Brings an invisible sad revolver
Flashing heart, winning judge
I am the one who needs to be in the mood
To do the truth, to say the blessing
Behold to these stern memories.
But what do I have to do with the memory?
I'd rather put my rag pencil down
Beat the tool edge
Time is ripe in our lands
Noiselessly and fearfully