Kami

Friends, Bangladeshis, countrymen, lend me your bladders;

I come to chat with Kami, not to stump her.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their hangnails;

So let it be with Kami. The intrepid Gillian

Hath told you Kami was shifty:

If it were so, it was a grievous fault,

And grievously hath Kami answer’d it.

Here, under leave of Gillian and the rest–

For Gillian is a dismal woman;

So are they all, all dismal women–

Come I to speak in Kami’s funeral.

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