You're sleeping buried in a wheat field
It is not roses, it is not tulips
Keeping watch on you from trench shadows
But a thousand red poppy flowers
Along the banks of my stream
I want silvery pike fish to descend
No more of these soldier corpses
Carried along by the embrace of the current
Thus you spoke and it was in the winter
And like the others towards hell
You walk gloomy like he who must
The wind spitting snow into your face
Stop, Peter, stop now
Let the wind blow on you a little
You speak for those who died in battle
Giving their own life in exchange for a cross
But you did not hear this and time went by
With the seasons in Java dance lockstep
And you came to pass the border
On a beautiful spring day
And while marching, your soul on your back
You saw a man down below in the valley
Coming with the identical mood as you
But with a differently-colored uniform
Shoot him, Peter, shoot him now
And after one shot, shoot him again
Until you see him lifeless
Falling to the ground, covering his own blood
And if I shoot in his forehead or heart
He'll only have enough time to die
But I will still have enough time to see
To watch the eyes of a dying man
And while you're paying him such consideration
He turns, he sees you and he is scared
And once he's wielding his artillery
He does not reciprocate in kindness
You fell down without a sound
And you realized in but one moment
That your time would not suffice
To beg forgiveness for your every sin
You fell down without a sound
And you realized in but one moment
That your life was ending on that day
And there would be no coming back
My Ninetta, to die in May
One needs a lot of courage, too much
Dear Ninetta, I'd rather have seen Hell
After going there on a winter day
And while only the wheat was listening
You held your rifle in your hands
You held such words in your mouth
Words too frozen to melt in the sun
You're sleeping buried in a wheat field
It is not roses, it is not tulips
Keeping watch on you from trench shadows
But a thousand red poppy flowers