War heart. God Sword
of snow auroras assaults cold;
towers sleep, human agony,
resist in the afternoon love.
kidnaps another war looks,
hardly see, on the steppe inert
without flower or rock: death camps
harshness of the paths revealed.
From the blood the soul endures,
golden poplars -sweet, tender pink
as blue autumn, my spring.
But Your voice, Lord, it hurts and haunts.
scale the wall already severe mercy,
all deserted and silent light.
Slime feet and stars on the forehead
Tristes , sad wooden villages.
A poplar. Sparrows. gentle eyes
long slavery and poor soil.
Infinite thirst that knows no
him, next to the river freezes,
and in front of the fire, at last, emboldened,
to death lying on the shore.
Ooze in bodies, in their arms. Young
lurks the heart luxuriantly.
Shrouded sad, sad people
loses nothing because nothing waiting
patient glebe of God on the plain,
humility resigned and no promise.
With wheat, and fountains and mountains,
soldier defends his promise
as mud houses heart
of compassion and eternal longing.
"The Volchow." Ridruejo Dionisio (1941)
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