Ho Xuan Huong
Swinging - Poem by Ho Xuan Huong
Praise whoever raised these poles
for some to swing while others watch.
A boy pumps, then arcs his back.
The shapely girl shoves up her hips.
Four pink trousers flapping hard,
two pairs of legs stretched side by side.
Spring games. Who hasn't known them?
Swingposts removed, the holes lie empty.
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