Читать книгу The Great Captains - Henry Treece - Страница 5

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The great Captains, do they sleep

Careless as other men, with dangling arm?

Or do they roll from side to side,

Wide-eyed and sweating through the night,

Shuddering at every bird-cry, starting up

With hammering heart as distant doorlatch clicks,

Or nightwind carries nearer far-off feet?

Does dawn still find them living through the past,

Where never-ending film to the numb brain

Shows tumbled bodies, killed by directive,

Smashed faces grinning in the drizzling dawn,

And victory only lull before the same

Rehearsal yet again, and yet again?

The great Captains, do they ever weep

Before tedium drags them down to sleep?