问题描述：
Dulce et decorum est 高手来英文诗翻译~~~
急啊~在线等~ !机器翻译一律删除!~~~ 谢拉~一首诗, 能翻译的顺便说说它的意思吧! 高分!~Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! - An ecstay of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime. -Dim through the misty panes and thick green lightAs under a green sea, I saw him drowning.In all my dreams before my helpless sightHe plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Bitter as the cudof vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
急啊~在线等~ !机器翻译一律删除!~~~ 谢拉~一首诗, 能翻译的顺便说说它的意思吧! 高分!~Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs,And towards our distant rest began to trudge.Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots,But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame, all blind;Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hootsOf gas-shells dropping softly behind.Gas! Gas! Quick, boys! - An ecstay of fumbling,Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time,But someone still was yelling out and stumblingAnd floundering like a man in fire or lime. -Dim through the misty panes and thick green lightAs under a green sea, I saw him drowning.In all my dreams before my helpless sightHe plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.If in some smothering dreams, you too could paceBehind the wagon that we flung him in,And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;If you could hear, at every jolt, the bloodCome gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,Bitter as the cudof vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, -My friend, you would not tell with such high zestTo children ardent for some desperate glory,The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori.
问题解答：
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