In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.
Denken Sie daran, warum wir starben.
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(c) 2011 Property of, Will Merzlak.
Photograph taken and edited by Me.
5010x3336 Version available only by request.
Let us make future generations remember us as proud ancestors just as, today, we remember our forefathers.
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