song of the jealous woman

Young woman,
Don’t fall for my charming husband,
He is a womanizer,
Don’t fall for his ingratiating smile,
It is like ghee,
His smile is like ghee, it melts
When dawn strikes,
And the rays of the lactating sun
Penetrate the dark panes of that lodging.
Young woman I warn you,
Don’t fall for me husband, I say.

College girl
Do not be bewitched by my husband’s words,
He is a poet,
His are sharpened rhymes.
Be fooled not by his venomous spittle of promises,
It is his art,
Words on my husband’s tongue
Is butter on bread.
He is not good, college boys are better,
Do not fall for his humor; he will get you laughing
As he laughs his way to the lodging

Married woman, stare less at my husband’s Benz
It is mine.
Your saliva trickles, as his loins tickle
You want him,
His Italian suit
His genuine leather shoes
An ominous craving you have
Don’t you have a man at home?
Don’t you, don’t you?
Listen,
Listen you daughter of the goat shepherd,
Listen, Pastor’s wife
My husband’s mine,
His spontaneous smile, mine
The leather shoes and Italian suit
Listen, you pickpockets girlfriend,
He is my man and I,
His woman.