Wilfred Owen

Inglês, poeta, do início do século passado, morreu durante a I GG, uma semana antes da paz ser declarada. Amigo do também poeta Siegfried Sasson, lamentava torturadamente a perda de vidas jovens que a guerra causa. Mas também louvava o amor, como vcs podem ver no post seguinte.

Anthem for Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?

Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle

Can patter out their hasty orisons.

No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;

Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,

The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;

And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?

Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes

Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.

The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;

Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,

And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.