In Flanders Field....
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 down, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved
and now we lie in Flanders field.
Take up our quarrel, with the foe
to your from failing hands we throw
the torch, be yours to hold it high
if we break faith with us who die
we shall not sleep, though poppies grow
in Flander fields.
John McCrae
1872-1918
Un poeta canadese che scrisse
questo poema ricordandosi dei suoi amici
di battaglia morti in un campo di papaveri
che stava per fiorire.
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 down, saw sunset glow.
Loved and were loved
and now we lie in Flanders field.
Take up our quarrel, with the foe
to your from failing hands we throw
the torch, be yours to hold it high
if we break faith with us who die
we shall not sleep, though poppies grow
in Flander fields.
John McCrae
1872-1918Un poeta canadese che scrisse
questo poema ricordandosi dei suoi amici
di battaglia morti in un campo di papaveri
che stava per fiorire.
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