The man-eater woman always swallows. Then she spits out the poor male's bones, like an owl, except her prey has a different kind of tail. This is the woman of today, neither a feminist nor a submissive wife catering to her husband's needs. Her own pleasure is the end-game of every single wave she rides. She always comes out on top, eyes dark with eternal hunger. She is the incarnation of the succubus figure transformed by opportunity into a formidable beast with no master. She leaves before sunrise, her eyes alight with scorching fire. There is no walk of shame, she glows when she walks. The man-eater woman never stays the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem