It’s so much work, she must confess,
grappling with the sloth of her spouse,
cleaning his home, handling his mess!
(Let’s imagine it, if we can.)
He is useless and fatuous,
yet remains the head of the house,
because he’s a man.

Were she to pen a verse, they’d think
some man did the composition,
her part naught but a name in ink.
(Let’s imagine it, if we can.)
But if he is not a poet,
why accept this supposition?
Because he’s a man.

A brute votes on election day;
he is a man, and that’s the rule.
Yet brilliant women have no say.
(Let’s imagine it, if we can.)
Teach him to sign his name, that’s all;
it matters not if he’s a fool,
because he’s a man.

He gambles, he drinks, and he pouts
whenever his luck has gone wrong,
while she suffers, struggles, and doubts.
(Let’s imagine it, if we can.)
Yet they call her “the weaker sex”
and he’s reputed to be strong,
because he’s a man!

She must forgive if she is cursed
with a husband who cheats and lies.
And what if the roles are reversed?
(Let’s imagine it, if we can.)
He can kill in a fit of rage
and say he’s the victim! That flies,
because he’s a man!

Most fortunate of mortals,
how thoroughly and truly
(albeit, though, unduly)
you enjoy unquestioned fame!
Merely being born a man
was enough to make your name.
The Husband
Thirsting in the desert of ambition,
in search of recognition he holds dear,
a man stands at the threshold of glory;
to his wife he says, “Stand back and stay here.”

And when he resumes his arduous quest,
his courage failing, his fortunes adverse,
“Stay by my side,” he beseeches his wife,
“for so you did swear, for better or wors
Forever
Knowing that you're leaving
torments me night and day
my heart bleeds
like a damned soul in hell.

Depart, depart for distant cities
keep on living your other life
and forget whatever I've suffered
as you enjoy existence.

Black mists, jealous clouds of darkness
obscure your brow in storm,
and the pain that I've felt
bursts forth in a torrent of tears.

Since the day I saw you
my soul glows haloed in your eyes
and my heart is full
of scarlet petals.

If in my chest there could be flowers
since this heart languishes, withering,
it would carpet with petals
the road where you walk.

Depart, depart for distant lands
go on living your other life
and bury in forgetfulness
everything that's existed here.