This is enforced creative writing at it's best people! I had to turn a lais into a fabliaux and this is what i came up with! Damn you Chaucer!

In rural Siam, in a time long past,
There lived a couple that seemed true and steadfast.
Since children, joined for their compatibility
In their parent’s eyes, nurturing such responsibility
Until the day would come so that mature age
Could render them ready to take their stage.
Leave home then, the couple did
And travelled west and swiftly married.
His name was Sounak, a carpenter by trade,
Renowned for his honesty and the things that he made.
His workload was heavy; it took up his life,
Though he never complained, for he much loved his wife
And had swore at their wedding that no matter the tide,
For her and their love he would always provide.

His wife’s name was Yinglawn, a beacon of light,
A more beautiful girl you never would sight,
Born of a merchant with long flowing hair,
With a countenance of some angelic heir.
Her eyes sparkled like diamonds lost at sea,
And of Sounak did every man feel envy.
Not least of these was a lord called Ching-dee
Who knew that Yinglawn, his lover must be,
Ching-dee was most elegant, gallant and strong,
Was admired immensely, but to no one did belong.

Four days of the week Sounak worked in town,
From the morning dew-drops until the sun came down
He slaved away so his wife could enjoy
The life he provided, through his rigorous employ.
Though three days a week he worked far from home
Hidden from sunlight in the forests dome.
His work was a secret and although it paid well
It caused him shame, and to his wife he couldn’t tell
The details, or answer the questions she asked,
Regarding his wanderings and why these he masked.

Sounak’s secrets caused Yinglawn concern
The reason for these she tried to discern
Asking him often where the weekends he spent,
But her husband was firm and would not relent;
“I’d tell you my dear, if I felt that I could
But I want to protect you and feel that should
I tell you, you would feel much strain”
Thus she vowed that next weekend she would travel the plain
And follow her husband, who she loved with whole-heart
To see what he did when from her he was ‘part.

The weekend came quickly, and follow him she did,
Maintaining a distance so that she be hid,
When finally her husband entered a wood
She followed him closely, knowing she could
Watch closer, when suddenly her husband stopped,
Glanced around nervously, then his clothes he dropped.
He picked up his clothes and hid them nearby,
Then almost at once he let out the cry
Of a wolf, which was answered instantly
By an angelic naked beauty next to a nearby tree.
Unaware as to his wife in hiding,
Sounak tamely followed his siren’s chiding
Confidently marching into her wood
It seemed to his wife, as fast as he could.

Yinglawn, left alone, started to cry,
All the love she had felt that they had was a lie,
And she sobbed and convulsed on the floor of the wood
And felt that the world could never be good.
Sounak had chosen to lie and betray
She made sure that in this wood he would stay
Forever, and acting quickly tore up his clothes
And ran home with them sobbing. Her tears fell in droves
And she stayed home depressed. As months rolled by
She learned to forget, and embraced life as newly born Thai,
Attracting attention and knocks on her window,
Covetous eyes stirring the heart of a widow.
Then two years later, her heart admitted men
Noble Ching-dee was delighted, and seized his chance then.
Thus Ching-dee and Yinglawn started to court,
And were happily admired, and well thought


Of. Though back in the wood, some two years ago,
Sounak’s heart was aching with woe.
His clothes were not here, and naked he stood
Desolate, alone, in the heart of the wood.
He scoured the trees, in knowledge betrayed,
Night fell, wolves howled and to Buddha he prayed .
He howled to the zenith, his usual foul cry
To his hidden employers, always nearby.
They never called back, left him in rain
Howling at the moon in anguish and pain.

He fell to the earth; the rain drenched his skin,
Waking with an illness, he grew weary and thin.
He searched out for food, eating berries from the wood
Though it soon became clear that these were no good.
A kind of madness took Sounak, was quick to engulf
His senses, and made him believe himself a wolf.
The price that he paid for being a deceptive myopic
Was to dissolve and become frightfully lycanthropic
And scour the woods in search of fresh meat
And gorge on the flesh of the creatures he beat.
Raw flesh however has effects on a man,
He can’t eat this food the way a wolf can,
And as the days, the weeks and the months rolled by
The lonely moon call became a desolate cry
For the wolf, who, suffering, crawled home to die,
Letting out breath in a long ragged sigh.

Sounak was found by a monk walking on alms,
Who gathered him up in his open arms,
Carried him home to his village wat
And sent for a doctor from Amphoe Maesot.
Sounak’s body was suffering, he’d surely be dead,
Had fortune not favoured the kwan in his head
To be saved, and be nurtured back to health,
And some two years later he was restored to himself.
He devoted himself then to a holier life,
Forgot about past-times and the love for his wife
Whose betrayal had wounded him. August came
And the abbot announced that a wedding between a lord and dame
Was to be held at the temple the following pansah,
Which was to be the pride and envy of all the sangha.
Sounak and the monks meditated on the coming day of glee:
The wedding between the fair-dame and the noble Ching-Dee.

The wedding day came, the sun shone through the palms
And as the wind whispered, the monk-hood walked on alms
In anticipation of the long day ahead;
Pali blessings were recited, speeches were said.
The lord and his lady arrived long after noon
To a saffron clad army, and a pink-tinted moon
Assembled in front of the temple of dawn
Thus Sounak, in robes, was aware of Yinglawn.

He let out the cry of a wolf, and dived at his wife
But the other monks grabbed him, afraid for her life.
Then the abbot threatened to hit Sounak with a stick
As Ching-dee cowered and Yinglawn was sick.
“What is the meaning of this?” The abbot roared,
“That woman is my wife” Sounak implored,
“I worked everyday with my heart full of joy
For the love that we had, and my rigorous employ
Drove me away deep into the woods throng,
Where I worked as a carpenter for the hill-tribe of Hmong.
Their traditions dictate that I work without clothes
As a servant, and in the forests groves
Deeply hidden, I left my attire
So that at the end of the weekend, when due to retire
I could return home richer to my loving wife
And go on loving her until the extinction of my life.

However one weekend, after my work there was done
I went back to my grove and found I was undone.
The place I left my clothes was printed and bare
And a kind of madness did take me there.”
At these words Yinglawn, started to cry,
The man she had loved had not lived a lie,
He had loved her and held her and she’d turned him mad
And he sat humbly before her, alone, saffron clad.
“I followed you deep, deep into the wood
And watched you undress on the ground that you stood
Then saw that beautiful woman, to whom you gave a cry,
And my heart felt betrayed, and I wanted to die.”

Ching-dee watching this, gave out a shout
“Dear Yinglawn, Father Sounak it’s time to start out
Again, and recapture the love you both feel.”
Thus a noble lord, will relinquish with zeal
That which he may claim by right,
But the love between them was such a sight
That he could not split their loving gaze
As the evening took on some holier haze.

Sounak disrobed and fell into the body
Of Yinglawn, who cried out that nobody
Would part them again,
And that misunderstandings would no longer cause pain
To them. They returned then after to Sangkhlaburi,
A happier couple you never would see
Though a question needs voicing, as travelling the plain,
Why must such love arise from such pain?