O, You running clouds! Go to that farthest land
and heal her wounds with consoling words.
She cries and pleads to get free
from the care of hard core Fathers.
She wants me to take her as my wife and partner
and is ready to transfer her inherited money
to my account and herself to my country.
I don't want her or her wealth
as one will corrupt my honesty
and the other my grateful, febrile heart.
I wish God who had saved me
many-a-time from the gnawing death,
should liberate her from the den
and lend her His Hand to settle there around.
May wise thoughts and fresh floods
fill my account at heart to swell and swill
into poems to melt the stony hearts
and cause her release from the dungeon.
I am not a money-grubbing man or a sinner
to lose all my morals and put aside my conscience.
If she beats her chest about
betrayal of her trust later,
I can't bear it with my weak heart.
Her contemptuous scowl or her painful silence
would stop my heart for ever.
If she thinks of my decision later
and thanks me with beatific smiles,
that will comfort this mournful soul.
rajendran muthiah
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-honey-trap-gives-me-the-jitters/
