The dreaded date on the calendar
At your doorstep gets the lender
Just as your maid has left.
“Robert in? ” he demands.
“Out of town, ” you lie…
Again…
The dreaded date.
Tap, tap on the door:
A bouquet thro’ the peephole
Opens on an expansive smile.
“My dear valentine, ”
He softly whispers
As he leers and winks,
“Hope he isn’t in! ”
And you yell out,
“Robert, Robert! ”
[Mar 17,2009: : Hyderabad - 500 056]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem