Cruel fate, I have seen your near end,
Yet I make it through your trenches.
I have seen near poppy flower close not once,
Twice, but trice.
Ah, but have I made my life most richer than anger
Or pity can hold.
I have not died.
I can sense you standing yonder,
for I know no need to look back.
My scars remind me that what has been, has been,
And yonder poppy flower round my wrist,
Lest I forget what once was.
Ah, cruel fate, you hold me no more,
for I live eternally, again, and again.