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Poppies in the Field

At the place of a battle not long ago

A field stretches out, flock of birds in the sky

All I can see are crimson red poppies

Like bursts of blood on a canvas of rye


Scenes of carnage flashing vivid before me

Mothers mourning lost sons, all in black

The earth draws a breath, wounded and groaning

Cleansing the ground with rain turned to muck


In place stands and burns a torch everlasting

Same one that my brothers held in the dark

And with sunken heads the flowers are weeping

For my fallen comrades who all left their mark


Im one with the field as those around me

Me and this grief will not ever make peace

Not to forget, not to weep is my sentence

But silently bow for all those that i miss


My sacred memory will never betray me

Steadfast in our oath these treasures I guard

I stand on my knees and look up to the heavens

And mourn all the ones who live on in my heart


Ivan Bagaev

Translated by Andrew Hollis

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