August 9, 2006
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Wilfred Owen, not me
Wilfred Owen, the British war poet, was killed by machine gun fire in France in 1918, one week before the end of the second world war. He was age twenty-five and was awarded the Military Cross shortly before his death.
This, perhaps his best know poem, describes an attack by biological warfare – gas – which caused the lungs of victims to rot swiftly.
Owen attacks one of the patriotic mottos – given in Latin, as such things often are – under cover of which war is praised.
A site I recently visited brough this poem to mind, and it seemed appropriate considering the situation in places like Iraq and Lebanon, on which I don’t take sides but just comment on the general folly.
As I’m too busy to prepare anything of my own, and I’m sick of looking at my last entry, I thought I’d post it.
Dulce et Decorum est
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of gas-shells dropping softly behind.
Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.
Dim through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams, you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in.
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil’s sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
The translation, as exactly as I can remember, is -
‘It is sweet and noble to die for one’s country.’
Comments (18)
Oh.
Oh, irony.
I remember this from a poetry class I took in college. Thanks for bringing it back to me…half way through reading the memory of it snapped into my conciousness. Oh, and yes the translation is correct.
My great grandfather suffered a gas attack during fighting in Gallipoli. I remember my grandfather reading dulce et decorum est to me when I was young. Cool poem.
What films you into?
OOO, i studied that poem before. one of my favourites compared to others who glorify war, he tells nothing but the cold sad truth.
ahh yes, I was watching an episode of Oprah. She was with the author of “Night”, some very scary images ><”
you got the hint, but i’m not in switzerland
. i’m part german lol
the iraq/lebanon situation will spread, it already has. war sucks, but it’s part of human nature. if someone wants war and you want peace, what will you do, turn the other cheek? war is part of being human, no diplomacy will fix that.
i’ll go back to my porn now
lolz.
i never
understand why
anyone ever intentionally
slums it
in MY comment*box
justin.
there are a limitless
number of alternatives.
my XANGA is competing
with television programming,
and the internet,
and
and
BOOKS!
somehow,
random peeps,
think iiiiiii compare,
AND THEY COMMENT!
…i just don’t
see why. maybe i might
shed some light on
that mystery if i
flipped it.
hmm…
i’ll start
thinking about
why iiiiiii spend
myyy time in the
comment*boxes.
yes
yes
that COULD be
enlightening.
and
and
i WOULD read that
poem you blogged
but
i’m INSANELY competetive
where it concerns
my writing.
and i DO write
so i just can’t stand
the superior competition.
you know?
lolz.
i like it here in my mind,
where iiiii am the center
of the whole goddamned
universe, you know?
gah!
i’m sucha attention-starved
asshole.
poo.
i’ll read that poem
if YOU order me to tho.
anyhoo,
sari i let
so much time
elapse between
comments guy.
i’ve been
drowning in assholes.
you know?
that line from
“igby goes down.”
great film!
i ALSO like the line,
“i need a sunny day.”
don’t tell anyone,
but i’m from the south
and
these hicks nicknamed
me “sonney.”
i had NO say
whatsoever
and it stuck.
yup
yup
imma gay
named “sonney.”
but i should
spell it “sunny”
in passive-agressive
DEFIANCE,
eh??
anyhoo,
tell wayne
i’ll e-mail OR
comment him
back soon.
i’m STILL feeling
a bit weird
and
i tend to ruin
things for myself
here when i get
weird
so i don’t wanna
ruin our little
game of comment*tennis.
he’s, like,
got the only blog
i care about
anymore.
uhh,
no offense.
LOL.
i just need
some laughs these days.
and his blog
almost NEVER fails
to provide the
humour.
anyhoo!
my qpeeps is…
http://www.qpeeps.com/tre_passe
i’ll find the
inspiration to
upload some
tasteful nudes
at some future date.
and
and
i have a BOLT
where i’ll start
uploading some
music soon.
gah!
i’m sooo strapped
for time tho!
my BOLT is…
http://www.bolt.com/ofcoursehedoes
see ya!
eckiezZ!
*
*
*
When was the last time you talked to Jesse?
=X
You do know Jesse right XD
Yes him.
I think hes dead 0.0
Dude that would really suck if he was….
When he last posted me he was thinking of trying girls cuz boys are mean. Since then idk. He’s in Florida. Where are you?
justin wrote: Having come over here, I find I am to witless at this time to think of anything to say, and so I will go back. XD
yeah
yeah
godforbid
you type something
LESS than stellar
and reveal yr humanity
for ALL to see.
remember that great trend,
about two months ago
when it was fashionable
to upload a cruddy self*pic.
the idea was to present
a part of yrself that
wasn’t completely
dolled up and shit.
“wit” and hot pics
are nice but you can
settle for less.
i mean,
it’s JUST ONLINE.
half the time,
i do this is my
pajamas.
it’s NOT always perfect
but neither am i.
it’s like how
i tend to reveal my
kraziness up front
with the peeps i meet.
if they can’t handle
it then i don’t need
to bother leaving my
lengthy arduous comments.
bah!
i had more to type
but i lost my train of thought.
poo.
oh well,
fill in the blanks
dood.
and comment when ya want.
ta!
eckiezZ!
*
*
*
*waves*
I always feel a little guilty if I leave a frivalous comment on your page darky my sweet – your stuff is such good brain food – where as my page is always full of nutriousless calories….
You know of course in another life -I would marry eckieZ! – but I’m not worthy… you’re both gourmet chefs with words - and I am a tray of airline food!
Fasten your seat belts….!
It’s neither sweet nor noble. We read this poem in high school nearly 30 years ago. I remembered it as soon as I saw the title. Wilfred Own was an admirable fellow to be able to eloquently record his horrors. Imagine dying by being ripped apart by machine gun bullets…
Pro Patria? What a joke! This patria (USA) is just where my ass rests. I would move to Canada in a second and just may if things keep on as they are.
yeah…lol
guess who’s back.
Meh, Alberta
Its sorta stupid, where i live.
Nothings interesting, really.
Well we get some good bands and what not, but besides that…
Meh