11-12-2011, 06:22 PM
When you see millions of the dead without a mouth Across your dreams in pale battalions Do not utter words soft as other men, Well, no need to. No gifts will praise how the deaf can learn That are not curses which accumulate in their heads? Nor tears, her blind eyes can not see your tears. Neither honor, it is easy to be dead. Just say this: They are dead, and then adds: Many best have died before. He sees how many tight And perceive a face that you once loved. A spectrum. No one saw her face dropped. The Big Death has snatched the long.