I will write 5 poems today.
15 in the month of May.
A 100 or more when I turn Gay.
Do you think I am the master and I have a say?
She is the mistress, she hunts for the prey.
Like a tigress in spring pounces on me from the Sundarbans of the bay.
I am mauled and hauled as she gathers my thoughts gone astray.
She devours me alive, My soul skins alive, to the eternals dismay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem