Strategy Of The Hostile General Poem by Pierre Rausch

That is what confers (to relax)
That there is a certain instant
The beginning of retreat
Bataillon
The front hid
By the shells
Into the bottom
We'd stand good
That he had
Exactly
A stove isn't needed
Listen
He paused, and seemed to be talking
He paused, and you're here
Colonel,
What should he choose?
What if I felt hungry only for water?
a dull splash
If you'd grant me shelter for this night
You don't recognize me
What should be choosen?
A terrible situation
Unforeseen presence
It was he, the intruder, who interrogated
I heard him declare
You’d better leave
Because the slightest
Not to leave
Where was the inconvenience in waiting?
Have you seen him steal?
He didn't steal. I gave him the office
Are you oafish?
You aren't oafish?