Bright red roses dropping to the ground
Solemn crowd gathered round
Black, the color of the day
People mill around in a maudlin way
Coffin being lowered down
Crying of the women, the only sound
Grief filled widow being consoled
Another soul whose life story has been told
Life as miniscule as a grain of sand
Irregardless of what we have planned
Incessant ticking of the clock
It's motion unable to block
Like the cycle of the tides
A last breath as it subsides
Newborn's startling first cry
Of life's many mysteries, questioning why
Just a part of the Maker's grand design
A length, unable to define
Faith, our ever present guide
While on the road of life, we ride
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem