Liedholz shot at me
and I at him;
in the ensuing tumult he surrendered to me.
Before we reached our wire
he told me he had a wife and three children.
In the dug-out we gave him a whiskey.
Going to the Brigade with my prisoner at dawn
the early sun made the land delightful
and larks rose singing from the plain.
In broken French we discussed
Beethoven, Nietzsche and the International.
He was a professor
Living at Spandau
and not too intelligible.