As you all know, something similar has been going on in the past few weeks, in London. I am not here to compare the events because both break my heart into pieces. But there's a poem which describes what it is all about, or, rather, the essence of it.
The Coming of War: Actæon - by Ezra Pound
An image of Lethe, and the fields
Full of faint light but golden,
Gray cliffs, and beneath them
A sea
Harsher than granite, unstill, never ceasing;
High forms with the movement of gods,
Perilous aspect;
And one said:
"This is Actæon."
Actaeon of golden greaves!
Over fair meadows,
Over the cool face of that field,
Unstill, ever moving,
Host of an ancient people,
The silent cortège.
