Creative Modern Interpretive: Wilfred Owen
... ET DECORUM EST1 Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through desert, Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their minds
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, blasting mortar that dropped behind.
IEDs!7 IEDs! Quick, boys! – An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the military helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And floundring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the sand blast and thick dust light,
As under a tornado, I saw him drowning.