Array
(
[_edit_last] => Array
(
[0] => 1
)
[_edit_lock] => Array
(
[0] => 1533674952:1
)
[inlibrary] => Array
(
[0] => "4429"
[1] => "23646"*p97
)
[firstline] => Array
(
[0] => No, I cannot write the poem of the war, / Neither the colossal dying nor the local scene, / A platoon asleep and dreaming of girls' warmth / Or by the petrol-cooker scraping out a laughter. / —Only the images that are not even nightmare: / A globe encrusted with a skin or seaweed, / Or razors at the roots. The heart is no man's prism|c
)
)