Losses
It was not dying: everybody died.
It was not dying: we had died before
In the routine crashes - and our fields
Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,
And the rates rose, all because of us.
We died on the wrong page of the almanac,
Scattered on mountains fifty miles away;
Diving on haystacks, fighting with a friend,
We blazed up on the lines we never saw.
We died like ants or pets or forigners.
(When we left high school nothing else had died
For us to figure we had died like.)
In our planes, with our new crews, we bombed
The ranges by the desert or the shore,
Fired an towed targets, waited for our scores -
And turned into replacements and woke up
One morning, over Engalnd, operational.
It wasn't diffrent: but if we died
It was not an accident but a mistake
(But an easy one for anyone to make).
We read our mail and counted up our missions -
In bombers named for girls, we burned
The cities we had learned about in school -
Till our lives wore out; our bodies lay among
The people we had killed and never seen.
When we lasten long enough they gave us medals;
When we died they said, "Our casualities were low,"
They said, "Here are the maps"; we burned the cities.
It was not dying - no, not ever dying;
But the night I died I dreamed that I was dead,
And the cities said to me: "Why are you dying?
We are satisfied, if you are; but why did I die?"
Dienas notikums:
![[info]](http://klab.lv/img/userinfo.gif)
reptilja ir sieviete ar pautu, kas tika sašķaidīts pret maska pieri. :) visnotaļ jaukumīga diena vispār, tikai labprāt neatteiktos no viena cēsu gaišā - sirds skaidrumam :)
It was not dying: everybody died.
It was not dying: we had died before
In the routine crashes - and our fields
Called up the papers, wrote home to our folks,
And the rates rose, all because of us.
We died on the wrong page of the almanac,
Scattered on mountains fifty miles away;
Diving on haystacks, fighting with a friend,
We blazed up on the lines we never saw.
We died like ants or pets or forigners.
(When we left high school nothing else had died
For us to figure we had died like.)
In our planes, with our new crews, we bombed
The ranges by the desert or the shore,
Fired an towed targets, waited for our scores -
And turned into replacements and woke up
One morning, over Engalnd, operational.
It wasn't diffrent: but if we died
It was not an accident but a mistake
(But an easy one for anyone to make).
We read our mail and counted up our missions -
In bombers named for girls, we burned
The cities we had learned about in school -
Till our lives wore out; our bodies lay among
The people we had killed and never seen.
When we lasten long enough they gave us medals;
When we died they said, "Our casualities were low,"
They said, "Here are the maps"; we burned the cities.
It was not dying - no, not ever dying;
But the night I died I dreamed that I was dead,
And the cities said to me: "Why are you dying?
We are satisfied, if you are; but why did I die?"
Dienas notikums:
reptilja ir sieviete ar pautu, kas tika sašķaidīts pret maska pieri. :) visnotaļ jaukumīga diena vispār, tikai labprāt neatteiktos no viena cēsu gaišā - sirds skaidrumam :)