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Siegfried Sassoon (1886–1967).
Counter-Attack and Other Poems. 1918.
17. Suicide in the Trenches
I KNEW a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.
In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.
You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.
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3 comentarios:
che... que onda?
fuck fuck fuck fuck
que triste
al menos no me siento identificada con las smug-faced crowds de las q habla.. es mi unico consuelo
igual
fuck
Por Dios, verso más depresivo no podías encontrar, no? :(
Igual está bueno... pero ahora estoy triste.
hl.
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