At sunset, on the river ban, KrishnaLoved her for the last time and left. . .That night in her husband’s arms, Radha feltSo dead that he asked, What is wrong,Do you mind my kisses, love?...
—Kamala Suraiyya
It is I who drink lonely Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns, It is I who laugh, it is I who make love And then, feel shame, it is I who lie...
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