The Labour Night
April passed away with its fragrant airs,
And it was the bright hot day of the month next;
Evening began to befall; the men and women
Halted their vehicles in the commodious lawn,
XLIs, Mercedes and Paradoes dazzled the eyes.
They were producers, manufacturers, and firm-owners
And were heading to the egg-white grand building:
The rain-washed edifice of the five stars hotel,
Green grass had a virgin tread of the gents and ladies.
They all went up the stairs of the first floor,
Entered sluggishly into the gigantic hall
Rounding arms around waists of the rented-whores.
They sat in the chairs placed along the rectangular tables
Laden with the rare roses, sheeted with
The red shining cloth hemmed silky golden.
In the first phase they were offered rare beverages
Warming their bodies, wakening the contents of lust,
They snivelled in intimacy of the hired-beloveds.
Then a stout bald man spoke gently to attract their ears,
And began to tattle on the new-fangled labour policy,
Behind played an orchestra synchronizing the occasion.
In the final course they ate the rare items of the dinner,
Chicken steamed, mutton steaks, things of the minced meat,
Then they took in the arms the dainty graceful ladies,
And entered they into the luxuriant ample rooms
To commemorate the night of the Labour Day.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Added by Poetry Lover
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