Excerpt from Les Ailes Rouges de la Guerre: Poèmes
Et par - dessus ces escadres et leurs fumées Volant de ciel en ciel les paroles armées; Chaque onde en est vibrante et, le jour et la nuit, Passe toute la guerre à travers l'infini L'antenne des hauts mats recueille'et répercute L'ordre d'où sortira la victoire ou la chute; A l'est, à l'ouest, au Sud, au Nord, Autour des appareils mille étincelles d'or Crépitent et c'est le feu, le vent, les eaux, la terre.
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