On a lady
Coy and beautiful
But almost thirty five
A man and her mother
Spoke whispering.
The cunning mother
Increased
The temperatures of
The suitor
As he raised his offer
More and more
Spurred
By the mother
‘I have to tell my daughter, ’
She said jokingly
With mischievous
Eyes
Groaned the thirsty man
Becoming
More and more thirsty.
Till
To where the mother
In collusion with the daughter
They brought him:
Ah! women so powerful
So potent
On a man who’s become
Thirsty
And more thirsty!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem