I Wandered Through The Streets Thinking Of

At School Nobody Ever Taught Us How To Light A Cigarette In A Storm Of Rain, Nor How A Fire Could Be Made With Wet Wood-nor That It Is Best To Stick A Bayonet In The Belly Because There It Doesn't Get Jammed, As It Does In The Ribs.

All Quiet On The Western Front.

There Was Only The Broad Square With The Scattered Dim Moons Of The Street Lamps And With The Monumental Stone Arch Which Receded Into The Mist As Though It Would Prop Up The Melancholy Sky And Protect Beneath Itself The Faint Lonely Flame On The Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier, Which Looked Like The Last Grave Of Mankind In The Midst Of Night And Loneliness.

We Were Eighteen And Had Begun To Love Life And The World; And We Had To Shoot It To Pieces.

You Take It From Me, We Are Losing The War Because We Can Salute Too Well.