Is there life to be saved, and where?
They plunge in the haze of the house ablaze;
Their helmets lit up with the glare.
A window opens above us,
That’s on the second floor.
And a maiden we sight—in the raiment of night—
And she calls midst the flaming roar—
“Will nobody save my Father?”
We are turned near to stone at the shock.
We are glued to the street. I can hear my heart beat