Poppies in my heart have sprung, Bright-red poppies - every one. At the earth and sky they smile. What do they foretell the while? Days of joy, or battles new? What is it they have in view? Vainly do I try to see What their flame is showing me. What keeps their youth ever fresh - Not like mine, soon doomed to death? Why do they keep smiling so, With a passionate red glow? Summer heat has long since passed, Yet they fear not wind or frost. Well they brave the autumn sun Though the harvest work is done. It's high time they faded now. Gossamer decks every bough. "Live for joy!" is their behest, "So you die with no regrets." Still at us they cast an eye, Beautiful as they are sly. A forbidden way they show To the joy we long to know... Poppies flourish in my heart, Ever brighter red they are... Liudas Gira, translated by Peter Tempest