Bitter Truths Are Buried Poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

Down a stream came a woman,
partly clothed, fully drenched.

By lonely stream strolled the woman;
no one at sight, she freely emoted.

Upon a rock by a brook
fell she flat to bathe in sun.

Arms under nape, thighs wide apart,
she lay bare, charging her part.

She was caught from behind,
her twin hills under iron palms.

Though startled, not at all wild
as she was swayed heavily by impulses.

She minded not who the man was:
a lovely prince or a lowly brute.

She resisted not as she was sure
no one was there to bear a witness.

Willingly yielded and succumbed
she had, to the pleasure inflicted.

She was alone; so was she naked.
She was alone; so she granted.

Suffered the chastity before the secrecy.
A bitter truth and a hidden truth.
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