THE DANCERS

All day beneath the hurtling shells

Before my burning eyes

Hover the dainty demoiselles--

The peacock dragon-flies.

Unceasingly they dart and glance

Above the stagnant stream--

And I am fighting here in France

As in a senseless dream.

A dream of shattering black shells

That hurtle overhead,

And dainty dancing demoiselles

Above the dreamless dead.

Georgian Poetry 1916-1917 · 第 104 / 140 题