Freezing cold

the wind blows through the deserted city streets

swirling the dust

sweeping along cigarette butts, clouds, papers

some solitary pedestrians hurry through the streets

the wind blows

it blows into the chimneys, in the shelters under the bridges

it blows through the scraggy legs of the prisoners as they drift around the courtyard

it blows onto the bleeding bellies of women who give birth outside the closed hospital doors

it blows in the slums, in the barracks, in the taverns

it blows beneath the old palace

Requiem for the fallen

Bleachers

ministers’ top hats

monocles

gloves

expensive furs

soldiers in file present arms

crowds crammed

behind glistening bayonets

Faces square and wrinkled

faces blue with cold, smudged with smog

thick strong jaws, rotted teeth

eyes beneath crumpled caps

red and sullen

Give rest, O God, unto your servants

hallelujah

the wind blows

An old man half-asleep

a plasterer with overalls covered in lime powder

there's no way out

the Slavs threaten us

the war

quiet! quiet! the minister is speaking

the war

hallelujah

the wind blows through the crutches of the crippled who bang on the city doors

it blows through the guitars of the blind who play on street corners

it blows between the bones of the dead

A woman clutches her child in fear

the child is in distress and begins screaming

shut up! the minister is speaking

a bakery worker spits

bastards!

hallelujah

and his spittle, congealed from the flour, expands like leavened dough

to make tomorrow's bountiful bread

take ye, and eat

the wind blows

Workers from the sewers, from the cement factories, from the gasworks

garbage collectors, builders, workers from the abattoirs

women who sell greens at the market

girls who warm their hands under their armpits

huge red hands worn from washing

Our nation is threatened!

For God and country!

We must cut it short, Your Excellency

they’re expecting us for tea

where pain shall be no more, nor sorrow

a beggar scratches his crotch

The unknown soldier is cold beneath the fine sleet

an old-timer grinds a chestnut with his toothless gums