[Coenraedt]

Thank you all for responding.
About the context: it is a one-act play, rather enigmatic, in which a dying soldier, accompanied by a chanting chorus of unseen wounded, addresses a dead person whom he called for. He talks about the horrors of war (In this case W.O. I), about homes burning: "My home burns like the grass dries in a summer's heat, and I have thrown a stone for . . . for understanding...
THE DYING (to THE DEAD). Look! . . . Cannot you see there is no grass upon the earth . . .no weeds to mock at man's endeavour? This, brother, is the end, for this . . .belongs to you! . . . March, comrades, march . . (His delirium alternates with his sanity. He laughs into the night)