AUTUMN LEAVES – G. Ungaretti: It is like autumn, the trees, the leaves. TARGETS – S. Spender: The Guns spells the supreme reason of the money, in letters of lead, on the hill of spring. But the boy, who is dead under the olive trees, was too young and too silly, because they would notice, with their eyes important. He was best target for a kiss. MILESTONES – D. Diop: To those who grow fat in the crimes, and to measure the stages corpses of their kingdom, I say that the days and men, the sun and the stars, show the pace of the fraternal peoples. MUCH FIRE – G. Apollinaire: Who would have thought the earth so anthropophagous, much needed fire to roast the bodies of men. WEIGHTS DANGLING – T. Gray: Look, the macabre fabric already grows. Of human viscera is the plot, and the weights dangling below, each is the head of a downed warrior. RAGS – C. Malaparte: Oh rags that go to the air, to the lords of the earth flown meeting, and the announcement of commuting, which is a shame to win the war. DO NOT BELIEVE – O. Bulat: Do not believe the war, boy, do not believe it. War is sad, very sad, boy. The war is narrow like shoes. Your good horses there will be nothing. You are all in the palm of the hand, all the guns you point to. RELICS – Basho: Oh herbs in the summer, of warriors, relics of dreams. SAD GUARDIAN – P. Levi: Powerful Earth, masters of new poisons, sad secret keepers of thunder definitive, there are enough of much affliction donated from heaven. Before pressing the finger, stop and appreciate. CRASHES – M. Yourcenar: Crashed an iron sky, on this tender statue.