Gallipoli - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
From the treeless mountains he flew
to the world known as bald majesty
when an eagle comes looking for you
you remember Gallipoli.
You will dream of hot metal in flight
and of blood as it flows to the ground
when your ghosts come to visit at night
you will die with a whimsical sound.
Will the pilgrimage make up for breath
all the comrades who hid in the trench
it was you who invited your death
and you added yourself to the stench.
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