Kathmandu Prostitute

Valery Oisteanu    

After work in a bus station I can hardly recognize
Suri in her mountain-tribe clothes
In the bus station all the girls look alike
Without high heels, without earrings
No red lipstick, no languorous eyes
My Kathmandu working girl is out of her working clothes
No leather mini-skirt, no black lace brassiere
Rats are running between the busses
Only the heavy perfume of seduction lingers
She whispers into my ears, "I love anal"
She bites my lips
Come to my horizontal "lingum temple"!
I will massage your nipples!
The Kathmandu mistresses are will trained in the art of love
They are shaved smooth as satin
But in my forest there are not trees that will hide my appetite
There is no room that cannot be a bordello
There is no bed unpierced by the sword of Kali.
Erotic carvings on the gates are silently laughing.