Knock-knock! A friend of mine, enters my room decorated by masculine muscles. My nostrils had previously never noticed the aroma of my unwashed clothes. Hey! When were these last washed? I replied swiftly and firmly, “Recently…previous month…or previous to previous month…don’t remember the exact time”. Who writes the time of laundry-a palpable thought ran through my physical body. At this tender moment, the science of facial reading came to my rescue. I just nodded while receiving banters. I dared not look into those scary fiery red eyes. All my masculinity was subverted in the scenic beauty of the melodrama.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem