The Dog

 

Unlike animals, the man presses his imagination into the service of love. Like a god, he transforms as he pleases, as the whim takes him. In accordance with his desires and those of his beauty, he turns into dog, fox, stag or elephant. In comparison, none have seen a bull mount a cow as men do. The beauty gets on all fours and, in that position, presents her rump which she wiggles suggestively. If she claws the carpet, mews and purrs, it is the congress of the cat. If she bleats and shabes her head violently, it is the assault of the goat. If, with tears in her eyes, she wails, it is the rut of the stag. If she groans, growls, licks her lover's finders, then it is the union of the dog.

She bends well forward and grips
the bedstead, her buttocks raised high;
cup your hands to serpents' hoods
and squeeze her jar-shaped breasts together:
this is
Dhenuka (the Milch Cow).

If you mount her like a dog,
gripping her waist,
and she twists round to gaze into your face,
experts in the art of love say
it is
Svanaka (the Dog).

If the lady, eager for love,
goes on all fours, humping her back like a doe,
and you enjoy her from behind,
rutting as though you'd lost all human nature,
it is
Hirana (the Deer).

When, with lotus-feet
set well-apart on the ground, she bends,
placing a hand upon each thigh,
and you take her from the rear,
it is
Gardabha (the Ass).

If she lies on her stomach
and you seize her ankles in one hand,
lift them high and make love,
tilting her chin back with your other hand,
it is
Marjara (the Cat).