Even though I'm lying
On the corner of a blanket,
Which I grabbed in a big hurry,
My naked body
Covered by the mere height of winter wheat,
Decorated by thousands of poppies,
And blue flowers too,
Thinking of young,
Naked women,
Only dressed with their pony tails,
And their colourless laugh,
But shrill and cheerful,
Who're bending
To wring their laundry washed in the river,
And who, without even noticing me
Around,
Spread their laundry
Over the golden,
Hot ears,
And then run back
To the river
To have a bath,
It doesn't mean
I'm not in love with you.
