John McCrea

In Flanders fields the poppies grow
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.

Dans les champs de Flandres, les coquelicots fleurissent
Entre les croix qui, de rangée en rangée ,
Marquent nos places ; et dans le ciel,
Les alouettes, qui chantent encore bravement, volent,
À peine audibles parmi les canons qui tonnent.

Lieutenant -colonel John McCrae, le 3 mai 1915

In Flanders Fields - An Answer

In Flanders' Fields the cannon boom,
And fitful flashes light the gloom,
While up above; like eagles, fly
The fierce destroyers in the sky;
With stains, the earth wherein you lie,
Is redder than the poppy bloom,
In Flanders' Fields.

Sleep on, ye brave, the shrieking shell,
The quaking trench, the startled yell,
The fury of the battle hell,
Shall wake you not, for all is well.
Sleep peacefully, for all is well.
Your flaming torch aloft we bear,
With burning heart, an oath we swear
To keep the faith, to fight it through,
To crush the foe, or sleep with you,
In Flanders' Fields.

C B Galbreath
(State Librarian of Ohio, USA, and poet )