Every lover is cursed
to forget, at least for a while,
his woman: as the river of
amnesia devours his love.
Every beloved is cursed
to be forgotten until her secret
is trapped in the net of memory.
Every child is cursed
to grow fatherless,
with his hand in the lion's mouth.
It is an excellent poem refreshing the memory of Shakuntala, Bharat playing, Dushyanta's forgetfulness, all those as Goethe took to and admired it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The poem is a profound comment on the contemporary times, the interpersonal relationships, drawing images from “Sakuntalam”. Wonderfully expressed.