Children of flowery meadows
Vagrants of stellar tracks
They are still escaping
Hidden in the poppy’s stalks
They pay the highest price
For some hallucinations
They are modern slaves
Who wanders on its stage

Eyes wander on the wall
Hands twitch incessantly
A wreck who has only nerves and a brain
He finishes his life in that way
On the flowery meadows
Children pluck the poppies
Today for the first time
Someone will enter the stellar tracks