Tempos estranhos (todas as guerras) It's a Queer Time It's hard to know if you're alive or dead When steel and fire go roaring through your head. One moment you'll be crouching at your gun Traversing, mowing heaps down half in fun : The next, you choke and clutch at your right breast No time to think leave all and off you go . . . To Treasure Island where the Spice winds blow, To lovely groves of mango, quince and lime Breathe no good-bye, but ho, for the Rest West! It's a queer time. (...) The trouble is, things happen much too quick; Up jump the Boshes, rifles thump and click, You stagger, and the whole scene fades away: Even good Christians don't like passing straight From Tipperary or their Hymn of Hate To Alleluiah-chanting, and the chime Of golden harps . . . and . . . I'm not well today . . . It's a queer time. Robert Graves (1895 - 1985) --------