Memories ring with feelings
You'll know that you are alive
From the beauty, from the scent
Your memories are souvenirs
Wherever you roam
Whatever empire you serve
You can hear the world
While you are walking
Awash in the crimson field
Alive in the distant memory
Of the days of a violent past
Such beautiful imagery shocks
For no human artist
Could make it better
By the acts of their hand
Nature has an abundant artistry
But in the life of a soldier
Such beauty rarely lasts
Roman warriors of history
Cloaked in red, armed with steel
Marching through Gaul's lands
They prepared for battle
Where efforts never could yield
The defeat of an empire
That refused to die
Taking power from enemy hands
The Romans often won the day
Even if the clash was sharp
Dead and the dying would lay
Stacked like wood to be burned away
Returning to the fields
No longer alive, in silent homage
To the maker of the poppies
And to the rains of the creator
