(Verlaine)
|
January 23rd
|
There's no road.
|
It's been raining now for three days
|
We're in mud up to our knees.
|
|
If luck prevails and I'm given leave
|
I should be home by the 17th.
|
One word I hear all the time
|
This word I hear
|
Blind
|
|
John died last night,
|
He had no chance
|
Beneath the surgeon's drunken hands.
|
It's hard to see
|
Who's about
|
The fires we light
|
Soon smolder out.
|
|
Up on the ridge
|
They're dug in deep
|
We move in waves,
|
As if asleep.
|
And there they lay
|
Four thousand men
|
The general orders "Attack again."
|
|
-----------------
|
Words From The Front
|
| Tom Verlaine |
