rapa
01-16-2007, 05:53 PM
My life,
Like a sandbar, has been taken over by a monster of a man.
He wants my body under his control
So that if he wishes he can spit in my face,
Slap me on the cheek
And pinch my rear.
So that if he wishes he can rob me of the clothes
And take the naked beauty in his grip.
So that if he wishes he can chain my feet,
If he wishes, he can, with no qualms whatsoever,
Use a whip on me.
If he wishes he can chop off my hands, my fingers.
If he wishes he can sprinkle salt in the open wound,
He can throw ground-up black pepper in my eyes.
So that if he wishes he can slash my thigh with a dagger,
So that if he wishes he can string me up and hang me.
He wanted my heart under his control
So that I would love him,
In my lonely house at night,
Sleepless, full of anxiety,
Clutching at the window grille,
I would wait for him and sob.
My tears rolling down, I would bake homemade bread,
So that I would drink, as if they were ambrosia,
The filthy liquids of his poligynous body.
So that, loving him, I would melt like wax,
Not turning my eyes toward any other man,
I would give proof of my chastity all my life.
So that, loving him
On some moonlit night I would commit suicide
In a fit of ecstasy.
Like a sandbar, has been taken over by a monster of a man.
He wants my body under his control
So that if he wishes he can spit in my face,
Slap me on the cheek
And pinch my rear.
So that if he wishes he can rob me of the clothes
And take the naked beauty in his grip.
So that if he wishes he can chain my feet,
If he wishes, he can, with no qualms whatsoever,
Use a whip on me.
If he wishes he can chop off my hands, my fingers.
If he wishes he can sprinkle salt in the open wound,
He can throw ground-up black pepper in my eyes.
So that if he wishes he can slash my thigh with a dagger,
So that if he wishes he can string me up and hang me.
He wanted my heart under his control
So that I would love him,
In my lonely house at night,
Sleepless, full of anxiety,
Clutching at the window grille,
I would wait for him and sob.
My tears rolling down, I would bake homemade bread,
So that I would drink, as if they were ambrosia,
The filthy liquids of his poligynous body.
So that, loving him, I would melt like wax,
Not turning my eyes toward any other man,
I would give proof of my chastity all my life.
So that, loving him
On some moonlit night I would commit suicide
In a fit of ecstasy.