Isaac Rosenberg (Айзек Розенберг)

August 1914

What in our lives is burnt
In the fire of this?
The heart’s dear granary?
The much we shall miss?

Three lives hath one life –
Iron, honey, gold.
The gold, the honey gone –
Left is the hard and cold.

Iron are our lives
Molten right through our youth.
A burnt space through ripe fields
A fair mouth’s broken tooth.

1. The Dying Soldier
2. The Dead Heroes
3. Soldier: Twentieth Century
4. The Song of Tel the Nubian
5. На марше • Marching

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Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1956

Последние стихотворения

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