When he made love,
She escaped in an empty abyss,
Her only friend was the chasm,
Every time she came out of that bleak space,
Low and behold, there was his face,
She yearned for another’s sweet articulations,
But there he was, not giving her space,
All she wanted was her loves wholesome,
passionate and celestial embrace.
But there He was:
The King of taunting words and empty love,
Every second felt an eternity;
Each kiss an abuse.
His grasp was like a hornet’s sting,
And each caress like a cat clawing,
His sweet whispers were but muffled cries,
For her love was far away and yet to be wise.
Whilst she was in that time and space,
It was like Radha being in another’s empty embrace.
With thoughts of her Krishna in lands afar,
Looking at the door that stood ajar,
Wondering if the prophecies of old,
Would once again meld two souls.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.