No care no worry

On a blue-green field, I planted one bright crimson rose.
The extracted honey has covered the throat,
to me, seduced by her radiant beauty,
so I gave her all on her volition.

While night clouds rested on the sunrise,
one withered yellow leaf of hers wrinkled my forehead,
and I addressed her, angry, censorious gaze from my bud.

A long time after, the grass did not cast my rests.
Nor the rose scent was reaching me out,
because of the nearby conifer forest.

Weeds began to grow around the chestnut navel
to hide her all despised.
Then one morning, two youngs discovered the blue-green field,
and hand in hand passed by the bush shield.