Fables of La Source ✓

The Aconite, the Poppy and the little Lily

In a distant, verdant meadow,

With colors warm and vivid glow,

Where the sun caressed with gentle rays,

And sheep would graze in tranquil ways,

Countless flowers made their home,

Each in colors richly sown.

They vied with one another in a trance,

Calming down with a fleeting glance,

To avoid the cruel pruning shears,

That might cut them through the years.

Only the Oak, grand and tall,

Stood in the clearing, ruling all—

The lively, calm, and charming plants,

Both venomous and sweet-scented plants,

All obeyed the Oak's proud might,

Bathing in the sun's warm light.

Far from this vibrant congregation,

In a peaceful, quiet location,

A Poppy lived with serene grace,

In the shade of a tall Aconite's embrace,

Blossoming in tranquil peace.

But one day, with dawn's release,

A small Lily began to rise,

Adding a touch of peace to the skies.

Since then, this majestic flower grew

Under the watchful care, it's true,

Of the paternal Aconite and wise Poppy sage.

Reader, if you would closely engage,

You'd see their roots interlaced,

Really intertwined

Concealing beneath the earth their plight,

In their forbidden love's hidden light.

A web of lies may weave my life,

With only forbidden love as its strife,

Yet nothing prevents me from a hidden embrace,

Despite society's disapproving face.

Dear reader, this is my final fable,

From which a pleasant moral is able.

Célestin de La Source