Once it was the colour of saying
Soaked my table the uglier side of a hill
With a capsized field where a school sat still
And a black and white patch of girls grew playing;
These fresh beauties, we can prove,
Once were virgins, sick of love,
The lovely fragrance of flowers
Pervades the whole atmosphere
Ceramic pots of little violets hang
Against the indigo coloured screens
Within the colours of this day-
I find myself recounting the days gone by...
Cherishing every blessed memory...
While gazing at the sky upon high;
The lovely things that I have watched unthinking,
Unknowing, day by day,
That their soft dyes have steeped my soul in colour
Was I a Samurai renowned,
Two-sworded, fierce, immense of bow?
A histrion angular and profound?
A priest? a porter?--Child, although
arms all her charms
he stood to
Pink pants and rosy plants
Pink blouses, never failing to arouse spouses
Pink hot feverish lips
It was our first great war
And after the first successful sortie
Into the nomansgland between her thighs
We waited anxiously every month