The moment she tucks in the mosquito net and goes
to bed, her husband’s black hands fumble after
the snakes and frogs of her body: “You’re hurting me!
Let go!” In anger, those black hands twist her breasts.
He says, “Listen here, Sweta, don’t be coy.
If ever I find even the evening star
gesturing to you, or making eyes,
I’ll see that you fall into a hellish pit.”
Sweta’s white thighs swing back and forth in space
clinging to the back, her husband’s black back.
Copyright ©: Translated by Carolyne Wright and Paramita Banerjee
End of the poem
15 random poems
- La Figlia che Piange by T. S. Eliot
- The End by Rabindranath Tagore
- Ash Wednesday by T. S. Eliot
- Above the Battle’s Front by Vachel Lindsay
- Ho, everyone that thirsteth poem – A. E. Housman
- Владимир Маяковский – Тресты
- The Three Beggars by William Butler Yeats
- brownie.html
- Robert Burns: Prologue: Spoken by Mr. Woods on his benefit-night, Monday, 16th April, 1787
- Анатолий Жигулин – Эпоха
- Epigram—Divine Service at Lamington by Robert Burns
- Валерий Брюсов – Искатель
- New Hampshire by Robert Frost
- Here’s to the Mice! by Vachel Lindsay
- The Aisne
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
