On Sharing A Husband

Ho Xuan Huong

 Next Poem          

Screw the fate that makes you share a man.
One cuddles under cotton blankets; the other's cold.

Every now and then, well, maybe or maybe not,
once or twice a month, oh, it's like nothing.

You try to stick to it like a fly on rice
but the rice is rotten. You slave like the maid,

but without pay. If I had known how it would go
I think I would have lived alone.

Next Poem 

 Back to Ho Xuan Huong

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.