Стихи и эссе

     Over the heather the wet wind blows,     I've lice in my tunic and a cold in my nose.     The rain comes pattering out of the sky,     I'm a Wall soldier, I don't know why.

     The mist creeps over the hard grey stone,     My girl's in Tungria; I sleep alone.     Aulus goes hanging around her place,     I don't like his manners, I don't like his face.     Piso's a Christian, he worships a fish;

     There'd be no kissing if he had his wish.     She gave me a ring but I diced it away;     I want my girl and I want my pay.     When I'm a veteran with only one eye

     I shall do nothing but look at the sky.

October 1937

EPITAPH ON A TYRANT

     Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,     And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;

     He knew human folly like the back of his hand,     And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;     When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,     And when he cried the little children died in the streets.[137]

January 1939

REFUGEE BLUES