The ladies men admire, I've heard,
Would shudder at a wicked word.
Their candle gives a single light;
They'd rather stay at home at night.
They do not keep awake till three,
Nor read erotic poetry.
They never sanction the impure,
Nor recognize an overture.
They shrink from powders and from paints ...
So far, I've had no complaints.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dorothy Parker can put her own gifted spin on things such as an interview and this freshly cut, cutting satire poem gemstone is the result. A unique poem from the boundless mind of a unique poetess, Who is so sadly missed. For Dorothy was in a class of her own.