The Monkey-Man
B
Bijay Kant Dubey
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The monkey showman comes he dressed in uncouth clothes,
Clumsy and soiled,
With the two Indian monkeys,
Red-mouthed small-breed monkeys,
Grinning and chattering and ogling,
Etching the body and rounding about
With a chain and a belt supporting,
Tied around the neck
And the chain into the hands of the master
And he sounding the little damru
And telling a cooked narrative,
Ay, a ballad,
That the he-monkey is going to marry
And so that he is groveling into dust out of joy
And the she-monkey shy of all that behind the master
And the master readying the bridegroom
By patting and kissing,
Combing the hair,
Saying into the ears
And powdering falsely the face with
As for to look beautiful.
The she-monkey in a half frock,
Tattered and soiled, understanding it not,
What it’s going on in-between
The spectators and the showman.
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