Now, as never before, From the vastness of the sky, Falls on me the sense of war. Now, as never before, Comes the feeling that to die Is no duty vain and sore. Something calls and speaks to me: Cloud and hill and stream and tree; Something calls and speaks to me, From the earth, familiarly. I will rise and I will go, As the rivers flow to sea, As the sap mounts up the tree That the flowers may blow-- God, my God, All my soul is out of me! God, my God, Your world is much too beautiful! I feel My senses melt and reel, And my heart aches as if a sudden steel Had pierced me through and through. I cannot bear This vigorous sweetness in your air; The sunlight smites me heavy blow on blow, My soul is black and blue And blind and dizzy. God, my mortal eyes Cannot resist the onslaught of your skies! I am no wind, I cannot rise and go Tearing in madness to the woods and sea; I am no tree, I cannot push the earth and lift and grow; I am no rock To stand unmovable against this shock. Behold me now, a too desirous thing, Passionate lover of your ardent Spring, Held in her arms too fast, too fiercely pressed Against her thundering breast That leaps and crushes me! One! two, three, four! One! two, three, four! One, two, three!... So it shall be In Flanders or in France. After a long Winter of heavy burdens and loud war, I will forget, as I do now, all things Except the perfect beauty of the earth. Strangely familiar, I will hear a song, As I do now, above the battle roar, That will set free my pent imaginings And quiet all surprise. My body will seem lighter than the air, Easier to sway than a green stalk of corn; Heaven shall bend above me in its mirth With flutter of blue wings; And singing, singing, as to-day it sings, The earth will call to me, will call and rise And take me to its bosom there to bear My mortal-feeble being to new birth Upon a world, this world, like me reborn, Where I shall be Alive again and young again and glad and free. One! two, three, four! One! two, three, four! One, two, three!... All the world about me seems The fulfillment of my dreams. [signed] Salomon De La Selva. The People's Struggle "Let no free country be alien to the freedom of another country." "Portugal is going solemnly to affirm on the field of battle her adhesion to this precept, though uttered by German lips. In defense of it, Portuguese will fight side by side with Englishmen, as they fought with them at Aljubarrota, side by side with Frenchmen, who fought with them at Montes Claros. Were it necessary to appeal to a motive less disinterested than the noble ideal proclaimed by Schiller, we have this: the payment of an ancient debt to which our honor binds us. Let us go forward to defend territories of those who defended ours, let us maintain the independence of nations who contributed to the salvation of our own independence.