So Chong-Ju

The path winds between fields of crimson blossoms

which, when picked and eaten, bring death like sleep.

Calling behind her to me, my love races onward,

along the sinuous road along the ridge, that sprawls

like a snake dazed with opium.

Blood from my nose flows fragrant

filling my hands as I race along

in this scorching noon still as night

her body and mine blazing...

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