From War Is Kind
I
Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind.
Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment
Little souls who thirst for fight,
These men were born to drill and die
The unexplained glory flies above them
Great is the battle-god, great, and his kingdom-
A field where a thousand corpses lie.
Do not weep, babe, for war is kind
Because your father trumbled in the yellow trenches,
Raged at his breast, gulped and died
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Swift, blazing flag of the regiment
Eagle with crest of red and gold,
These men were born to drill and die
Point for them the virtue of slaughter
Make plain to them the excellence of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Mother whose heart hung humble as a button
On the bright splendid shroud of your son,
Do not weep.
War is kind.
Stephen Crane
Galiba sevdim bu adamı. Bir hikayesinde de şöyle sayıklar:
If I am going to be drowned - if I am going to be drowned - if I am going to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I brought here merely to have my nose dragged away as I was about to nibble the sacred cheese of life?
The Open Boat
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