An Irish pilot foresees his death
Yeats
I know I will meet my destiny,
Somewhere in the clouds above my head;
Those whom I fought, I did not hate,
Those I guard, I don't love either.
My home country is Kiltatan,
My poor Kiltatan folks,
The end of the war will cost them nothing,
It won't make them any better than before.
No legal duty requires me to go to war,
There are also no public figures and calls from the public.
A lonely impulse of joy,
Drive me straight up this tumult among the clouds;
I weigh everything in my heart,
The years ahead seem to be wasting lives,
The days of the past are wasted,
between this life and this death.
An Irish Airman foresees his Death
BY WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS
I know that I shall meet my fate Somewhere among the clouds above; Those that I fight I do not hate, Those that I guard I do not love; My country is Kiltartan Cross, My countrymen Kiltartan's poor, No likely end could bring them loss Or leave them happier than before. Nor law, nor duty bade me fight, Nor public men, nor cheering crowds, A lonely impulse of delight Drove to this tumult in the clouds; I balanced all, brought all to mind, The years to come seemed waste of breath, A waste of breath the years behind In balance with this life, this death.
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