有一天，一颗炮弹袭击了我们的哨所，炸死了我身边的一个战友。看到他死时的痛苦样子，我的心都难受了。我在他倒下的地方挖了一下，发现了一块比我拇指大不了多少的碎壳，用温暖的铝包裹着。我把它熔化、造了一个模、倒在孔里、等铸模冷了、就作成一个形状的环。当我的戒指光滑明亮时，我把它放在一根圆形的棍子上，作为印章，我叫一个土耳其人用阿拉伯语写Maktoob。Maktoob !“这写!”……所以他们想，这些沙漠之子，也从它的无垠中喝了一些它的壮丽。在命运之书里，时间是它的叶子，它的封面是它的空间，人们说，你停止存在的那一天，时间，模式，地点，都标明了; and you shall not By taking thought or using wit Alter that certain fate one jot, Postpone or conjure it. Learn to drive fear, then, from your heart. If you must perish, know, O man, 'Tis an inevitable part Of the predestined plan. And, seeing that through the ebon door Once only you may pass, and meet Of those that have gone through before The mighty, the elite -- --- Guard that not bowed nor blanched with fear You enter, but serene, erect, As you would wish most to appear To those you most respect. So die as though your funeral Ushered you through the doors that led Into a stately banquet hall Where heroes banqueted; And it shall all depend therein Whether you come as slave or lord, If they acclaim you as their kin Or spurn you from their board. So, when the order comes: "Attack!" And the assaulting wave deploys, And the heart trembles to look back On life and all its joys; Or in a ditch that they seem near To find, and round your shallow trough Drop the big shells that you can hear Coming a half mile off; When, not to hear, some try to talk, And some to clean their guns, or sing, And some dig deeper in the chalk -- - I look upon my ring: And nerves relax that were most tense, And Death comes whistling down unheard, As I consider all the sense Held in that mystic word. And it brings, quieting like balm My heart whose flutterings have ceased, The resignation and the calm And wisdom of the East.