The woman who might take in you any interest
Would do so only to admit you as her guest
Up to her courtyard or doorstep utmost
And thence no more, which you must not mistrust
As consent for you to enter her bedchamber,
For there lies her Guilty Complex in slumber,
Who, if awakened, will slam at you her front doors.
You will have slain the duck that lays golden eggs.
12.04.99, Palakkad
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem