Does The Lotus Shrink Away For Everyone? Poem by Gert Strydom

(after A.G. Visser)

Early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away
an expensive car stops on the sidewalk,
there’s an old legend that returns to me

when the sultan Mirza Khan goes on a pilgrimage
with many knights
on his way to Ispahan with his caravan

and he’s just left when the neighbour’s wife rushes past
without loosing a moment.
Early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away

where in the darkness of night he leaves
to be involved with his commitments
with many knights,

while the winter wind cuts through me,
the gaze of the neighbour’s wife chills the leaving car,
there’s an old legend that returns to me

where in the palace Fatima made herself lovely
and the sultan had just left
to be involved with his commitments,

the neighbour’s wife hurries and do not want to avoid her lover
and I read insubordination, pleasure and rebellion on her face,
early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away.

When a horseman appears as the emir of the Badewyn
Fatima is naked, young and slender
and the sultan had just left

and the neighbour is really dedicated
exemplary, friendly and he wears glasses,
there’s an old legend that returns to me

where they meet each other and make love for hours
when the purple iris blooms in the cup of the holy lotus
and Fatima is naked, young and slender

and the neighbour is with other knights when his wife is wooed
while she is begging for other attention.
Early every evening after I see my neighbour driving away,
there’s an old legend that returns to me:

Does the lotus shrink away for everyone, does it wither
when the sultan Mirza Khan goes on a pilgrimage
when the purple iris blooms in the cup of the holy lotus
on his way to Ispahan with his caravan?

[Reference: “Divan” by A.G. Visser.]