I grieve not for my Love's Dis or fall from Grace
Nor my, cuckold, much cackled, loss of face
But for our son's shikha by which we'd seized
Fortuna's forelock, till I no longer pleased.
To be a Brahmin's wife seems a little thing
So paltry the wage for which udgatrs sing
Fucking the enemy can do what harm?
Ahimsa is its own Parasuram.
Envoi-
Midons! Geriatric your new modelling career
Orphaned of every anchor held you dear.
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