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