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Don Juan Poem By Marin Sorescu

Don Juan Poem By Marin Sorescu

After he’d consumed tons of lipstick,
The women,
Cheated of their holiest expectations,
Discovered a means of revenging themselves
On Don Juan.
Each morning,
Before the mirror,

When they’ve penciled on their eyebrows,
They paint their lips
With rat poison,
They daub rat poison on their hair,

On white shoulders, on eyes, on thoughts,
On breasts,
And they wait.

They show themselves white on balconies,
They search through parks,

But Don Juan, as though forewarned,
Has turned into a bookworm in the library.
He caresses only rare books
And a bevy of paperbacks,

But never anything bound in skin.
Dust on old second-hand volumes
Now seems more refined to him
Than perfume in the boudoir.

So the women go on waiting for him.
Poisoned in all five senses—they wait.
And if Don Juan were to lift his eyes
From his new obsession,

Every day he’d see through the library window,
How another loving husband is buried,
Accidentally killed by friendly fire
While kissing his wife
In the line of duty.

Marin Sorescu
first published in Poetry International, issue III
translated from Romanian by Adam J. Sorkin

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