In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
3 comentarios:
"1916" por Motörhead. 'nuff said :
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqFoqtpUFY8
16 years old when I went to the war,
To fight for a land fit for heroes,
God on my side, and a gun in my hand,
Chasing my days down to zero,
And I marched and I fought and I bled and I died,
And I never did get any older,
But I knew at the time that a year in the line,
Is a long enough life for a soldier.
We all volunteered, and we wrote down our names,
And we added two years to our ages,
Eager for life and ahead of the game,
Ready for history's pages,
And we brawled and we fought and we whored 'til we stood,
Ten thousand shoulder to shoulder,
A thirst for the Hun, we were food for the gun,
And that's what you are when you're soldiers.
I heard my friend cry, and he sank to his knees,
Coughing blood as he screamed for his mother,
And I fell by his side, and that's how we died,
Clinging like kids to each other,
And I lay in the mud and the guts and the blood,
And I wept as his body grew colder,
And I called for my mother and she never came,
Though it wasn't my fault and I wasn't to blame,
The day not half over and ten thousand slain,
And now there's nobody remembers our names,
And that's how it is for a soldier.
Ahora, es interesante pensar que hay guerras y guerras. Las guerras mundiales fueron más de mundos y culturas opuestas en las que el vencido iba a ser quebrado, y se justifica otro tipo de coraje. Yo si hoy me invadieran los ingleses creo que salgo a la calle a recibirlos como en la liberación de paris de los nazis.
Por desgracia las unicas naciones con ambicion imperialista a esta altura son las que realmente te harían la vida miserable.
Acabo de terminar de leer "La Belleza y el Dolor de la Batalla", de Peter Englund. Lo recomiendo.
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