The Dirty Nymph Poem by Satyapriya Gupta

She can hear the bell ringing,
Loud and clear; blinging,
On her swing made of flat tyre,
She goes round and in a gyre.

Happy and ecstatic as a free flying lark,
Trusting completely the tree's strong bark,
Singing aloud for her beloved is coming,
Worth the wait for his care and loving.

Hey and ho, Hark he comes,
Holds her up and takes her palms,
A kiss here; a kiss for the forehead,
Her then pink lips now a hue of rosy red.

As he lies her down on the flowery bed,
She holds his gaze then turns her head,
Shy as a sheep, bold as a gazelle,
He turns her into a pretty mademoiselle,

'Lie down my love', says he; the lover,
'Relax and rest and enjoy your clover'.
The evening breeze now cold and harsh,
Her loveless left her in a wet land marsh.

'Hark, here comes the dirty nymph',
They all shout aloud in rhythmic sync,
Teary eyes look up at the sky; the beautiful night,
Oh! what a pain, it remind her of the deceitful knight.