Breathe in: experience. Breathe out: poetry
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- Discussion Questions. Question 1
- Question 3
- Appendices for Section Three “Poetry and War”. Activity One appendices.
- Elvis Costello. Charge of the Light Brigade
- Alfred Lord Tennyson Activity Two appendices. Buddy can you spare me a dime
- Words Music by E.Y. Harburg Jay Gorney Recorded by Bing Crosby, 1932 Anthem For Doomed Youth
- Wilfred Owen (1893-1918
- . (John Schumann, as performed by Hip Hop band ‘The Herd’). Weapons Training.
- Bruce Dawe 1930 - Activity Four appendices. The Beastie Boys – In a World Gone Mad.
- Post Cards from Hajj Omran
- Activity Five appendices. U2 Sunday Bloody Sunday Lyrics http://www.youtube.com/watchv=EM4vblG6BVQob=av2n
- Seamus Heaney.
Resources needed: photocopies of “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “Two Lorries”, data projector/speaker, glossary sheets, Youtube link for U2’s ”Sunday Bloody Sunday”, Youtube link for Martin Luther King’s”I have a dream” speech, whiteboard maker, glossary sheets (from previous lesson), students will need individual access to a word processor. Activities Watch the Youtube clip of U2’s “Sunday Bloody Sunday”. Ask students if any of them can explain the historical events around which the song is based. Hand out the song lyrics. Discussion Questions. Question 1 - What are the recurring images in the song? Question 2 – How does the musical composition/instrumentation of the song affect our perception of the lyrics? Question 3 - Identify some of the more emotive/sentimental lyrics within the song. Question 4 - Identify how the song uses language and repetition to make its point. Question 5 – What are the key themes of the song? How is the writer appealing to us as an audience? Hand out and read aloud Seamus Heaney’s “Two Lorries”. Discussion Questions. Question 1 - What are the recurring images in the poem? Question 2 – How does the language used differ from “Sunday Bloody Sunday”? How is it alike? How does Heaney use language and structure to set the tone of his poem? Question 3 - Identify some of the emotive/sentimental imagery within the poem. Question 4 - When/where is the poem set? What is it about? Question 5 – What are the key themes of the poem? Debate. Divide the class into two groups to debate the issue: “Should writers/creative artists also be political activists?”. Group #1 must argue “Yes, writers have an obligation to be political activists and try to improve the world ” … Group #2 must argue “No, writers should not also be political activists, and they have no obligation to do so”. Conduct the debate. As a class, discuss– “Who are some writers/creative people who have changed the world in some way?”. Ask students to consider “what is the role of the poet/writer or artist in our society”? Should writers/artists try and “change the world”? Do they have that power? Conclude the lesson by watching Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech.
Is this merely a political speech or does the language used make it something else as well? What poetic elements and devices can you identify in the speech? How effective is this speech as a work of art? How does the speech seek to position and influence the audience and how persuasive is it in doing so? Appendices for Section Three “Poetry and War”. Activity One appendices. POETRY – GLOSSARY
Oliver’s Army http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uVwrrkt22Ag Don't start me talking
CHORUS:
Oliver's army are on their way And I would rather be anywhere else But here today There was a checkpoint charlie He didn't crack a smile But it's no laughing party When you've been on the murder mile Only takes one itchy trigger One more widow, one less white nigger CHORUS
Hong Kong is up for grabs London is full of arabs We could be in palestine Overrun by a chinese line With the boys from the mersey and the thames and the tyne But there's no danger It's a professional career Though it could be arranged With just a word in Mr. Churchill's ear If you're out of luck you're out of work We could send you to Johannesburg CHORUS
And I would rather be anywhere else But here today And I would rather be anywhere else But here today Elvis Costello. Charge of the Light Brigade Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. `Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns!' he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. `Forward, the Light Brigade!' Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier knew one had blunder'd: Their's not to make reply, Their's not to reason why, Their's but to do and die: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred. Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd: Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke. Alfred Lord Tennyson Activity Two appendices. Buddy can you spare me a dime? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0I8-CbJYGMA&feature=related Once I built a railroad, made it run, Made it race against time; Once I build a railroad -- now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime? Once I built a tower to the sun, Brick and rivet and lime; Once I build a tower -- now it's done. Brother, can you spare a dime? Bridge: Once, in khaki suits, gee, we looked swell, Full of that Yankee Doodle de-dum; Half a million boots went sloggin' through Hell -- I was the kid with the drum. Say, don't you remember, they called me Al? It was Al all the time. Say, don't you remember? I'm your pal. Buddy can you spare a dime?
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? --Only the monstrous anger of the guns. Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle Can patter out their hasty orisons. No mockeries for them from prayers or bells, Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,- The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells; And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all? Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes. The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall; Their flowers the tenderness of silent minds, And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
Activity Three Appendices. I Was Only 19 Mum, Dad and Denny were some amongst many who turned up to see the passing out parade at Puckapunyal Seemed every man and his mongrel watched cadets stumble on the long march to the Viet jungle. 'Oh Christ', I mumbled as I drew that card and my mates came to slap me on the back with due regard We were the sixth battalion and the next to tour we did Canungra and Shoalwater before we left, rest assured Seemed half of Townsville turned out to see us leave and they lined the footpaths as we marched to the quay The papers wrote it up like you would not believe but we were looking to the future for a fast reprieve The newspaper clippings show us young strong and clean rockin' slouch hats slung SLRs and greens Lyrics www.allthelyrics.com/lyrics/the_herd/ God help me, I was only nineteen From Vung Tau the black helicopters the chinhook pilots seemed relieved at Nui Dat when they dropped us Feels like months running on and off landing pads letters to Dad 'cause it's like, man, he's sad But he can't see the tents that we call home cans of VB and pin-ups on the lockers of chicks off TV The noise, the mosquitoes and the heat surprising like the first time you see an agent orange horizon So please can you tell me doctor why I still can't get to sleep the scar's left in me? Night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16 that keeps saying 'rest in peace' And what the hell's this rash that comes and goes I don't suppose you can tell me what that means? God help me, I was only nineteen Sent off on a four-week long operation
Then someone yelled 'contact!' another bloke swore we hooked in there for hours then a god almighty roar Then Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon God help me, he was going home in June And I can still see Frank with a can in his hand
The ANZAC legend neglected to mention the mud the fear the blood the tears the tension Dad's recollection beyond comprehension didn't seem quite real until we were sent in The chaos and confusion the fire and steel hot shrapnel in my back I didn't even feel God help me, I was only nineteen So please can you tell me doctor
God help me, I was only nineteen Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing out parade at Puckapunyal
So please can you tell me doctor why I can't get to sleep I can't hardly eat? And the sound of the Channel Seven chopper still chills me to my feet still fuels my grief? And what's this rash that comes and goes like the dreams can you tell me what that means? God help me, I was only nineteen. . (John Schumann, as performed by Hip Hop band ‘The Herd’). Weapons Training. And when I say eyes right I want to hear those eyeballs click and the gentle pitter-patter of falling dandruff you there what's the matter why are you looking at me are you a queer? look to your front if you had one more brain it'd be lonely what are you laughing at you in the back row with the unsightly fat between your elephant ears open that drain you call a mind and listen remember first the cockpit drill when you go down be sure the old crown-jewels are safely tucked away what could be more distressing than to hold off with a burst from your trusty weapon a mob of the little yellows only to find back home because of your position your chances of turning the key in the ignition considerably reduced? allright now suppose for the sake of argument you've got a number-one blockage and a brand-new pack of Charlies are coming at you you can smell their rotten fish-sauce breath hot on the back of your stupid neck allright now what are you going to do about it? that's right grab and check the magazine man it's not a woman's tit worse luck or you'd be set too late you nit they're on you and your tripes are round your neck you've copped the bloody lot just like I said and you know what you are? You're dead, dead, dead Bruce Dawe 1930 - Activity Four appendices. The Beastie Boys – In a World Gone Mad. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3szSKD3meg [CHORUS]
Mirrors, smokescreens and lies It's not the politicians but their actions I despise You and Saddam should kick it like back in the day With the cocaine and Courvoisier But you build more bombs as you get more bold As your mid-life crisis war unfolds All you want to do is take control Now put that axis of evil bullshit on hold Citizen rule number 2080 Politicians are shady So people watch your back 'cause I think they smoke crack I don't doubt it look at how they act [CHORUS]
So much violence hate and spite Murder going on all day and night Due time we fight the non-violent fight First the 'War On Terror' now war on Iraq We're reaching a point where we can't turn back Let's lose the guns and let's lose the bombs And stop the corporate contributions that their built upon Well I'll be sleeping on your speeches 'til I start to snore 'Cause I won't carry guns for an oil war As-Salamu alaikum, wa alaikum assalam Peace to the Middle East peace to Islam Now don't get us wrong 'cause we love America But that's no reason to get hysterica They're layin' on the syrup thick We ain't waffles we ain't havin' it [CHORUS]
So much violence hate and spite Murder going on all day and night Due time we fight the non-violent fight Now how many people must get killed? For oil families pockets to get filled? How many oil families get killed? Not a damn one so what's the deal? It's time to lead the way and de-escalate Lose the weapons of mass destruction and the hate Say ooh ah what's the White House doin'? Oh no! Say, what they got brewing?! Well I'm not pro Bush and I'm not pro Saddam We need these fools to remain calm George Bush you're looking like Zoo Lander Trying to play tough for the camera What am I on crazy pills? We've got to stop it Get your hand out my grandma's pocket We need health care more than going to war You think it's democracy they're fighting for? [CHORUS]
So much violence hate and spite Murder going on all day and night Due time we fight the non-violent fight Post Cards from Hajj Omran Macedonians on the lost trail, Russian cavalry dragging mules, Shepherds of sly goats on the march, carrying guns and fresh cheese, Did Abdel Salam Barazani flare it up Like one strikes a match? Rawandouz leaves but a sigh, like walnut stains on the palms of your hand, Which trees questioned for the Naqashbandites the pole star? Came:Macedonians, Alexander the grate's ideal stature, Russians, Kurdish rebels, the British, Social classes from all over the world, the Shah, artillerymen and rocket experts, a general from overseas, came: a woman looking for her sons... (in this lost corner of the world ships turned in to stone, and the " Nationalist council for Hatred" reigns over an orchard Of stone and gun-powder. Flares beyond the river. Roses from Bukhara. Rosary beads from Qom. An Armenian face. Quiet are the waves of van. Into the silence, the bell tints. Syria's, Yazidis. Turkmen violence. Assyrian peasants. Delicious is the village wine- The partisans are in the cave and BobDinar in the Mirage 2000) Country born between river and river Country torn between sword and sword You barely drew a map of light, that were dimmed the lights on Summer's minaret and al Raha walls... Which white-dark Hellenic woman built a winepress and a pottery? built cities from Hajj Omran to the sea? (when Alexander the Great, died there were, in Mesopotamia alone, three hundred towns and cities bearing his name) Country born between river and river Country tom between sword and sword, Bitter country with imbecile rulers The children of Nisibis grazed your fresh grass. And the chaldean rose slept in her forgotten mass ... Do woman still carry it in their wombs? Hark, rose by river and sea watered: Once, we meant to make History. but, stood waiting ... so the mom passed, and History passed Byzantines passed and Daylams. Constantinople or Mecca. Al-Hallaj and Al-Hajaj. Who will ever awaken the rose of Memory in these salty marches? Would we still drink from I shtar's jar wine that once flowed from the eyes of Gilgamesh's? Ah! Country born between river and river Country torn between sword and sword, Whenever you conjure your ancestors, beat the Barbarian drums... Nationalists enjoying the affluence of torture, devouring the tens of thousands they have killed (the communists were blind-folded, stacked like corpses, yet hymns rose in crescendo as the execution squads woke UP in the ailing dawn) Blood in Babylonia, what is the difference between the squads of years and the squads of death? would that my arm be a tree-root, I'd unleash my Winged Bulls, and with the magic of my Gods and children, stop the invaders at Uruk's gates... But,
Country born between river and river Country torn between sword and sword, Country between Hajj Omran and Basrah, between Revolution and Death, the time-bomb was mightier than you, mightier than your contented water clocks. And you surrendered to the Primitive Bedouins who came from the peripheries, from those villages thrown in capital letters on the military maps of this cruel world. The Metropoles across Marum Bizantum had synchronised their time. And the Barbarian hordes swarmed upon you from their savage villages; you, fair maiden of the Summerian jars; you, beautiful arabesque on the ceramics murals. You water and words... The Metropoles had synchronised their time, and the Barbarians came upon you exhausted and bleeding, O, country born between river and river country torn between sword and sword, Why the sailorsbar. Mossul horsemen. Dyana. Assyrian ruins. The kings of the Hatra. Syria's. Shqlawa. Bab al-Shikh. Bikhal waterfalls. The last sky. AlZaqqura. The papyrus in the Ahwar marshes. Fahd. The Leninists. The pilot in the MIG fighter. The people of Kufah. The exile in Nuqrat alSalman. Asoldier in the cafe at Samarrah. Dockers on the waterfront Why have they all become prisoners in a jungle of wild beasts? what are Uruk's children up to? What is the priest praying for? What says the oracle? and the prisoners of war who surrendered to God by the thousands? And the dead? Country torn between sword and sword? The rocks of Kurdistan have acquired the mechanism for destroying bunkers. Vietnam's victory was no geographic exclusivity. In Suar Tokeh, the chars carrying mortar guns were weeping like mules. Asks a recruit: why don't the sergeants rebel? Yesterday, a platoon surrendered at night fall. Silence, soldiers! silence, palm trees torn between Khorramshahr and Ahwaz! My voice, an aunt who lost her sons, a child shuddering On the roads of exile. Kurdistan retracts into her crevasses. and Dyana asks about Dyana.... Country born between river and river Country torn between sword and sword, Baghdad buys her gloves from a Parisian fashion shop. Is Jacques Chirac the famous Monsieur 10% And that socialist who anoints with mpagne the Exocet rocket? Which genuine Arab in Pouters were the Righteous Ancestors? Which un-Arab Arabs in these villages of oblivion were the socialists? (May I suggest to Mr.Francois Mitterand, President of the French Republic, to carefully read the "Collected Works" of Hajj Khayyrallaa Tulfah, official theoretician of the Baghdad regime; Regis Derby's help will be appreciated!) Country born between river and river country born between sword and sword, This land which had been our home, even for one day, has it beacon the invaders passageway? or just another prey? Did You have to elect the sick Prince even at the fateful price? Peace be upon you, my land peace be upon you. Mandali Ba'qouba
Baghdad... trinity Of the world-Hellerltic Organization. And Alexander-the-student/ drunk from Aristotle's cup,was sweeping across lands with horsemen and wine, building cities to be later destroyed by Priests/ officers and bedouins, and Mandali was the road... Xellophones "Anabasis": Mandali was the road. Budyeni’s cavalry: and Mandali was the road... Persians and Turks. Turks and Turks. Mamluks and Buwayhi soldiers. Arabs for thus and for that. Sunnis. Sabeans. Shiis descendants of the Prophet's household. Ayyarun. Chaldeans. Nestorians. Atheists. Sun worshippers. And Kharijites.... One day, Alexander, drunk from Aristotle's cup, came to us from mandali and Budyeni's cavalry and Xenophone's " Anabasis". Hulago came too.... Mandali Ba'qouba
Baghdad... Officers at the Headquarters Russian rnade helicopter is Might object. For the Russian made helicopter is Overflying Hajj Omrane, Becht Ashsn, And this War is unlike wars Of old. For war, here, is forgotten. Forgotten, the dead Forgotten, the year,. For who remernbers the dead? and who remembers the Years? (Barely mentioned by sorne bulletins Published Overseas ) Officers at the I feadquarters: we are fighting in a country that was never ours. Birmam or Tikrit? Let the jungle of guns burn! burl, the water Course Tikrit remains and Baghdad is the journey's end! Mandali Ba'qouba
Baghdad.. The farce begins, and assassinated Baghdad is now dead. Swiss guards for the intelligent Mary-Antoinette watching over the Muslims' Treasury French guards for Mecca and Medina U.S. guards for those who inherited control to surrender Israeli guards for Beirut which refuses to surrender Guards on my house Guards on my voice Guards on my Gulf Guards on Crowned heads from Abha to Ifran Guards on the sands Of the Arabia, penninsula Guards nn the channels Guards on all the airport that link island to island s, far and near Guards On the new's paperink Guards on my prison Guards on flowers Guards on the tipsiness Of wine Guards on the branches Of the trees Guards on my homeland Heavenly guards on God's children front the East bank of the Euphrates to the Valley of the Nile. What else remains? May be in Hajj Omran Will we ask Ourselves about that cup we chose to drink, and prepared for it banquets dripped with our people's blood. How naive, were the leftists! how faint the singer's voice! High grows the papyrus ... but the machine-gun is stacked away, rocks abound, yet no rifles are at sight. It is us who delivered our beards ( Assyria's pride to the one who doesn't even know how to pluck them, taught him to be an executioner and told our friends the sordid lie). And here we are now, awaiting the end of this orgiastic folly Perhaps in Hajj Omran will we realize that this cup remains. Waiters might quarrel; a waiter will go, another will come, yet another, but the cup remains unchanged. who knows? Perhaps a new renaissance will deliver us from the burning quest. Who knows? perhaps a new balance of forces (without our participation) will stop the catastrophe... And, what about us? Inflamed by the fire of ancestors,, prepared to receive the rose of the soul, uncovered discoverers, wanderers, squanderers... But, mightier, is the Earth, heavier the impact of the falling comet, and all our modern ammunition is not worth one bullet from our old gun. Let us, then, rise in soul beyond our bloody Present and recognise, for once, our bitter predicament and let the journey start from the darkness of this very night!
Hajj Omran: is a region in I raq’s Kurdistan occupied by Iranian forces in 1983. Fahd(Yussuf Salman Yussuf) 1900-1948 is founder and leader of the Iraqi Commu nist Party. Uruk, Nisibis, hatra, al-Raha: historic localities of Iraq. Xenophone’s "Anabasis": recounts the author" adventures while a soldier of fortune in Presses and Kurdistan. Budyeni: officer of cavalry in Tsarist Russia later to rally the October Revolu tion and become legendary leader of the Red Cavalry. Led the Russian cavallry in Iraq during WW 1. Al-Hajaj : bloody ruler of Iraq in 8th century. Al-Hallaj: sufi martyr. Ba’quba, Mandali, Shaqlawa, Kufah, Samarrah and Tikrit: Iraqi cities Bab al-Shaikh : Quarter in Baghdad Khorramshahr, al-Ahwaz, bechtashan, Mahran : Iranian citeis were involved heavily in Iran-Iraq war. Naqrat al-Salman: famous prison in the Iraqi desert Activity Five appendices. U2 Sunday Bloody Sunday Lyrics http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EM4vblG6BVQ&ob=av2n I can't believe the news today Oh, I can't close my eyes And make it go away How long... How long must we sing this song How long, how long... 'cause tonight...we can be as one Tonight... Broken bottles under children's feet Bodies strewn across the dead end street But I won't heed the battle call It puts my back up Puts my back up against the wall Sunday, Bloody Sunday Sunday, Bloody Sunday Sunday, Bloody Sunday And the battle's just begun There's many lost, but tell me who has won The trench is dug within our hearts And mothers, children, brothers, sisters Torn apart Sunday, Bloody Sunday Sunday, Bloody Sunday How long... How long must we sing this song How long, how long... 'cause tonight...we can be as one Tonight...tonight... Sunday, Bloody Sunday Sunday, Bloody Sunday Wipe the tears from your eyes Wipe your tears away Oh, wipe your tears away Oh, wipe your tears away (Sunday, Bloody Sunday) Oh, wipe your blood shot eyes (Sunday, Bloody Sunday) Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday) Sunday, Bloody Sunday (Sunday, Bloody Sunday) And it's true we are immune When fact is fiction and TV reality And today the millions cry We eat and drink while tomorrow they die (Sunday, Bloody Sunday) The real battle just begun
Sunday Bloody Sunday Sunday Bloody Sunday... Two Lorries It's raining on black coal and warm wet ashes. There are tyre-marks in the yard, Agnew's old lorry Has all its cribs down and Agnew the coalman With his Belfast accent's sweet-talking my mother. Would she ever go to a film in Magherafelt? But it's raining and he still has half the load To deliver farther on. This time the lode Our coal came from was silk-black, so the ashes Will be the silkiest white. The Magherafelt (Via Toomebridge) bus goes by. The half-stripped lorry With its emptied, folded coal-bags moves my mother: The tasty ways of a leather-aproned coalman! And films no less! The conceit of a coalman... She goes back in and gets out the black lead And emery paper, this nineteen-forties mother, All business round her stove, half-wiping ashes With a backhand from her cheek as the bolted lorry Gets revved and turned and heads for Magherafelt And the last delivery. Oh, Magherafelt! Oh, dream of red plush and a city coalman As time fastforwards and a different lorry Groans into shot, up Broad Street, with a payload That will blow the bus station to dust and ashes... After that happened, I'd a vision of my mother, A revenant on the bench where I would meet her In that cold-floored waiting room in Magherafelt, Her shopping bags full up with shovelled ashes. Death walked out past her like a dust-faced coalman Refolding body-bags, plying his load Empty upon empty, in a flurry Of motes and engine-revs, but which lorry Was it now? Young Agnew's or that other, Heavier, deadlier one, set to explode In a time beyond her time in Magherafelt... So tally bags and sweet-talk darkness, coalman, Listen to the rain spit in new ashes As you heft a load of dust that was Magherafelt, Then reappear from your lorry as my mother's Dreamboat coalman filmed in silk-white ashes. Seamus Heaney. INFORMATION
Excerpt of Martin Luther King’s “I Have A Dream Speech”. Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends. And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream. I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood. I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice. I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of "interposition" and "nullification" -- one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today! I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; "and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together."2 This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day. Directory: file -> view view -> Western Europe after wwii view -> Author study: paul fleischman view -> Qpa1 7ela study Guide view -> Arctic Oil/Gas Neg view -> November 1970 Approximately 150,000-500,000 deaths Bhola Cyclone Bangladesh view -> Grade Level: 6 Unit of Study: Caribbean glce view -> Citation: Duffield, Katy view -> Table of Contents Lesson # view -> Chinese Wind Energy Disad Download 2.37 Mb. Share with your friends:
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