Contactez-nous

• Artiste: Astaroth
• Titre: For Those We Hate
Assurez-vous que les corrections sont tout à fait exactes
S'il vous plaît, les mettez en évidence en quelque sorte!
Vous pouvez, par exemple, écrire
INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
CORRECT: avant la correspondant ligne correcte
Autrement, nous ne pouvons les corriger pas! Merci pour votre aide.
In peace there is nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger; Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the flesh'd soldier, tough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With consience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your flesh - fair virgins and your flowering infants. What is it then to me, if impious war, Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends, Do with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats Enlink'd to waste and desolation? What is it to me, When you yourselves are cause, If pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And there most reverend heads dash'd to the walls; Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confus'd