As if a pud of mud had been poured, all over my head.
I looked at the mirror, my forehead with henna spread.
Unmade, unclad, yet unabashed,
I'm not prepared, you get undressed.
You tell me to turn around, naked true,
And start to clean my back with henna too.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yet get undressed! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.