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.

Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae (May 3, 1915)

Grant rest eternal in blessed repose, O Lord, to the souls of Thy servants who have fallen asleep,

all who have lost their lives in the battlefields of every nation and land,

and may their memory be eternal.

Memory eternal. Αἰωνία ἡ μνήμη. Вѣчная память. Veșnică pomenire.