What of Muslims and what of Brahmans,
Some real parts and a few may be illusions,
The beautiful boy hunter plays with the toys,
Dear, I confess I am one of her kept boys.
The ancient lady who is deaf and dumb and blind,
Sometimes she is kind enough sometimes too unkind,
The motor in me she burns, again it’s she to run and rewind,
I‘m helpless in love anything wrong from her I don’t mind,
She is a relief and a source of pleasures and joys,
Dear, I confess I am one of her kept boys.
Heard many things about her but only her praise I remember,
I kiss the fire in the burning months from April to September,
I kiss the ice in the freezing months from October to December,
In the springs she is inviting and exciting sexy is the boy hunter,
Let her annoy if in the summer and winter she so much annoys,
Dear, I confess I am one of her kept boys.