Hand in Hand/Memory
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Memory
I AM she who forgets not,
The other women forget, and so they can be happy,
But I am always wretched, because I must remember,
And Memory is so sad.
I had a dream of Memory,
Her two hands held two sorrows:
One sorrow was a sword,
A sword to pierce my heartstrings,
The memory of my daughter, the little one who died.
One sorrow was a snake,
A snake to sting my bosom,
The memory of the woman, who stole my husband’s love.
I am she who forgets not,
And Memory is so sad!