𝘿𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩- 𝙰 𝙿𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚢 𝙲𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝘐𝘯 𝘍𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘍𝘪𝘦𝘭𝘥𝘴- 𝘑𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘔𝘤𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘦

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.