Skip to main content
Because of the young warrior who wears war anklets on his legs
and whose beard is the color of collyrium, the bangles hang loose
on my arms and I am afraid of my mother. Yet if I should embrace
those shoulders of a warrior, I may be shamed before the assembly!
May this bewildered city tremble as much
as I do, forever, not able to choose, divided between two minds!
Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.