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Wilfred Owen

Sunday 29th of March 2026

 
War If you could hear at every jolt, the blood Come gurgling from the froth-corrupted lungs, Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,— My friend, you would not tell with such high zest To children ardent for some desparate glory, The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori. Wilfred Owen, “Dulce Et Decorun Est” © 2015 Kwiple.com