I wonder, wonder
How does he choose,
Pick up,
Select the stuffs
Of his novels
Which but not his Catholicism,
Repudiating it
Or in acceptance of,
But his romantic whiff and wisp
Adding t?
The misunderstood Dutch dancer
Margaretha Geertruida 'Margreet' MacLeod,
Nicknamed Mata Hari,
Perhaps a name Malayan,
Mother of God in Sanskrit
And Eye of Dawn in Indonesian
Meaning sun or the eye
Who was executed,
Shot
For to be a spy
Of Paris.
Mata Hari,
How magical the word,
The spell,
Mata Hari,
The nautch girl,
The courtesan,
The dancer,
Exotic dancer
Whatever call you,
But above all she was a woman
Misunderstood and misinterpreted.
None took to her life,
Tried to understand
Rather punishing her
In the name of
Her frankness,
Boldness in taking
To life,
Flirting with
Or fancying,
The whims and charms
Of hers,
Hers none came to
Take to.
And the poetic justice came
It otherwise
Branding her a spy,
A secret agent,
Punishing her for
As did we to
The Russian spies
In the USA
And the America spies
In the USSR,
Man advanced
With the growth of civilization,
But mentality did not,
The heart did not expand it
Which had to.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem