Varus, varus, gib mir meine Legionen wieder <br /> <br /> <br />Quick on my feet in those Novembers of my loneliness, <br />I tossed a short pass, <br />Almost the instant I got the ball, right over the head <br />Of Barrel Terry before he knocked me cold. <br /> <br /> <br />When I woke, I found myself crying out <br />Latin conjugations, and the new snow falling <br />At the edge of a green field. <br /> <br /> <br />Lemoyne Crone had caught the pass, while I lay <br />Unconscious and raging <br />Alone with the fire ghost of Catullus, the contemptuous graces tossing <br />Garlands and hendecasyllabics over the head <br />Of Cornelius Nepos the mastodon, <br />The huge volume. <br /> <br /> <br />At the edges of Southeast Asia this afternoon <br />The quarterbacks and the lines are beginning to fall, <br />A spring snow, <br /> <br /> <br />And terrified young men <br />Quick on their feet <br />Lob one another’s skulls across <br />Wings of strange birds that are burning <br />Themselves alive.<br /><br />James Arlington Wright<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-mad-fight-song-for-william-s-carpenter-1966/
