I have not seen her chest,
All the time well wrapped in saree,
I can guess what shape it is.
I have not heard her talk
Love in words or in inks.
I could rehearse the hidden love.
She has not fallen on my arms.
I could still feel her arms.
I could relate to her in every form.
Imagination and impression are the vision
that substitute, each alike to send me
To sexual thought, accompanied by the act.
24.08.2002
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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