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.
On Sharing A Husband
Ho Xuan Huong
(1)
Poem topics: alone, fate, cold, share, rotten, slave, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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