Poems

If the path was once judged to not be able to pursue.

- more or less clear - feel
need to be born again. But solutions to the sometimes false. Of course, you can animate people, dress them in uniforms.
Then they sing war songs and share
bread with members. They will have gained
what looked for: a sense of intimacy with all of humanity.
But from the bread they will die.
You can dig up wooden idols, and to revive the ancient myths that have already proven one way or another
its power can be restored or panģermānisma
Roman mysteries. Germans can make
apskurbt excitement that they are Germans and
Beethoven\'s compatriots. It can stun all
up kuģapuikam. This, of course, is easier
than to unleash kuģapuikā Beethoven.
But those idols requires live flesh
victims. Who die on the progress of knowledge, or
to heal diseases, it serves for life even
nomirdamas. Perhaps it is beautiful to die for territorial gains, but now the war ravaging the stand by the claims. Today
it is no longer in the past, when there was little blood sacrifice in order to live a whole tribe. Since, used for war planes and mustard, wars
become a bloody surgery. Any pressure from opponents of the concrete walls under cover, anyone unable to think of anything better, Kati
at night sends squadron to drop bombs
inside the enemy\'s land, they blow up
life centers, paralyzing production and marketing. Win it, which will rot the last.
And both opponents Trud time.