Tsira's song

The figure approached. There was something strange about it. A way of progressing that intrigued us. It was a young girl. Almost a child. It came staggering. Stopped. Sometimes fell. But always got up and left with fierce energy.

She was pressing a package to her chest. Then we understood that she was carrying a child.

When she was very close, I went to meet her. I held out my hands to her. But before she reached me, she fell to her knees. She put her bundle on the sand.

She was so young. A child-woman with feverish eyes. With, in her gaze, the fear of one who knows she is going to die. She murmured in a hoarse voice: "Tsira..."