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Download Fairies and Fusiliers (Barnes & Noble Digital Library) by Robert Graves PDF

By Robert Graves

Retail caliber AZW3.

This 1917 selection of poems makes a speciality of Graves's international conflict I reviews and his friendships with such fellow poet-soldiers as Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. The poems element the horrors of battle whereas celebrating the bonds among squaddies. integrated within the assortment are: “Goliath and David,” “When I’m Killed,” and “Letter to S. S. from Mametz Wood,” between others.

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Additional info for Fairies and Fusiliers (Barnes & Noble Digital Library)

Sample text

Le digo entonces hasta que me callo: —Hay, madre, en el mundo, un sitio que se llama París. Un sitio muy grande y muy lejano y otra vez grande. La mujer de mi padre, al oírme, almuerza y sus ojos mor­ tales descienden suavemente por mis brazos. 6 —You look so old, my son! And steps along the yellow color to weep, for she finds me aged in the sword blade, in the mouth of my face. Weeps for me, becomes sad for me. How can she miss my youth if I’m always to be her son? W hy does a mother ache finding her sons aged, if their ages never reach hers?

21 Salutación Angélica Eslavo con respecto a la palmera, alemán de perfil al sol, inglés sin fin, francés en cita con los caracoles, italiano ex profeso, escandinavo de aire, español de pura bestia, tal el cielo ensartado en la tierra por los vientos, tal el beso del límite en los hombros. Mas sólo tú demuestras, descendiendo o subiendo del pecho, bolquevique, tus trazos confundibles, tu gesto marital, tu cara de padre, tus piernas de amado, tu cutis por teléfono, tu alma perpendicular a la mía, tus codos de justo y un pasaporte en blanco en tu sonrisa.

My stomach empties, my jejunum empties, want pulls me out from between my own teeth caught with a sliver by the cuff of my shirt. A stone to sit down on, isn’t there even that for me? Even that stone that trips the woman who’s given birth, mother of the lamb, the cause, the root, not even that for me now? At least that other that passed crouching through my soul! At least the calcaretic or the sick (modest ocean) or that no good now even to throw at man, that one, give me that one, now, for me!

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