August 30, 201312 yr moze li poezija? Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their bootsBut limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.If in some smothering dreams you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.al kako vidim, neko je dosta uspešno uspeo i da je otpevahttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9mc_2j56plA
August 30, 201312 yr http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdJh4dlpRTIF.I.A.T.You are in black darkness and confusionYou have been hugger, muggered and carom-shotted into a war, and you know nothing about it.You know nothing about the forces that caused it,or you know next to nothing.You are not to win this war.Yon cannot win this war.Darkness - A radio broadcast by Ezra Pound from Radio Rome July 13th 1942, aimed at the Americans.
August 30, 201312 yr moze li poezija? Dulce et Decorum Est by Wilfred Owen Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backsAnd towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their bootsBut limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.If in some smothering dreams you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cudOf vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum estPro patria mori.al kako vidim, neko je dosta uspešno uspeo i da je otpevaOven je jedan od mojih all time favorite pesnika, zapravo volim sve engleske War Poets.On topic, a povodom Ovena:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z2pxaiXy_Gomoja himna kad sam imao 15 godina :D+1 Edited August 30, 201312 yr by Syme
August 30, 201312 yr Oven je jedan od mojih all time favorite pesnika, zapravo volim sve engleske War Poets. marry me? pa podeli neku omiljenu? ne mora od ovena :)
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