I have also thought
Over all these things.
When uncle would be disturbing aunt
In the midst of night
You would be lying
There like a log
The body and the mind
Might be hot still
After the night ends
As if the log burning
After the burning of the corpse.
The departure was destined
I was to play the role
Of a characterless chap
As destined I had
To be cursed by the Gopis
Was I accepting all these?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem