They’ll linger on phrases like “singing sands” and “wine-dark sea,”
Speaking of places like Venice and shangdu,
Shangri-la and El dorado too,
Mystical lands I’d give up if I still had you,
But there’s a different sort of twinkle in a storyteller’s eyes,
When they speak of my homeland,
Though it may be a world they’ll never understand
But I remember how heavy the rainfall was on the canopy my last time there
A primeval world
Yet somehow still stifled by laws
I decided I would indulge in the greatest pleasure there
Before setting off on my journey
Who could stop me? Who would dare?
As the papeeha bird cried out mournfully
I tasted heaven on the lips of an onyx-eyes beauty
Who I’d never see again
The lascivious pink flowers were covered in droplets
And their arresting fragrance surrounded us
As snakes hung lazily from drooping branches
I asked you to pass some token into my hand
A silver bangle or your necklace
So that I could take it with me when I sought the golden grain
Where the sun goes to sleep
And remember that you were not a dream
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