Читать книгу All Quiet on the Western Front - Erich Maria Remarque - Страница 37

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he sees his helmet and puts it on. gradually he comes to.

suddenly he turns fiery red and looks confused. cautiously he reaches his hand behind...

things become quieter, but the cries do not cease.

it’s unendurable. it is the moaning of the world, it is the martyred creation, wild with anguish, filled with terror, and groaning.

that’s no disgrace. go behind a bush and throw your underpants away.

what’s up, albert?

a couple of columns over there got it in the neck.

wounded horses.

the cries continued. it is not men, they could not cry so terribly.

it was detering who real-ized what was screaming.