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letra de wilfred owen - miners - glyn houston

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there was a whispering in my hearth
a sigh of the coal
grown wistful of a former earth
it might recall

i listened for a tale of leaves
and smothered ferns
frond-forests; and the low, sly lives
before the fawns

my fire might show steam-phantoms simmer
from time’s old cauldron
before the birds made nests in summer
or men had children

but the coals were murmuring of their mine
and moans down there
of boys that slept wry sleep, and men
writhing for air

and i saw white bones in the cinder-shard
bones without number
for many hearts with coal are charred
and few remember

i thought of all that worked dark pits
of war, and died
digging the rock where death reputes
peace lies indeed
comforted years will sit soft-chaired
in rooms of amber;
the years will stretch their hands, well-cheered
by our lifes’ ember

the centuries will burn rich loads
with which we groaned
whose warmth shall lull their dreaming lids
while songs are crooned
but they will not dream of us poor lads
left in the ground

- glyn houston

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