Dhan Gopal Mukerji

FACES, faces, faces—

Why do ye turn away?

Young and old,

Why will ye not gaze into my face?

Come, I am thirsty—

Give me the chalice of your faces.

How can I forget

Limbs helpless with lust?

How can time take from me

The woundings of claw-sharp hands,

And the pleading anger of eyes

That burn with hate of love?

I am withering with hunger,

I who fed your famished sex!

Bring me the bare pittance of your pleasure,

Young and old—faces, faces, faces!