The Blue Fields

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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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