Through the fields of poppies red,
Through the sorrow and strong despair.

I march my way on the dusty path,
Where so many lives have fought and starved.

When rising my eyes in the gloomy night,
All I can see is a gruesome fight.

Those stars glow dark with no spot to be bright,
When, oh when can I see the light?

The sadness and mourn are never to die,
The memories flow through the weary eyes.