The Blue Fields

Forget me not, she said,
I’ll be there when the snow melts.
Remember all the long walks
Along the mountainous terrain
Where I guided you under the dark clouds
And cleared a path for you to travel by.

Rosy lips and the sweet chamomile
Appears tempting and beguiling;
Bewitching are the cherry blossoms.
The bleeding heart may declare love,
The belladonna disguising as your companion.
I, but, can only assist you in the truth.

I do not crave your attention
Nor your flattering words of praise.
What do words mean?
Accept me, for I cannot alter.
So bequeath all the fabrications
And return home to the distant hills,
Visit the blue fields of scorpion grass,
I’ll be there amidst the fragrance at dusk.

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