I don't really want to die,
Just to become famous.
Wait until the last prayers,
Are said over me.
Just to let the whole world know,
I've got something to say.
And I am what I wanted to be.
Would prefer my available intellect,
Critiqued ad hoc, not in retrospect.
My fame finally determined,
While I stand tall and erect.
But so are the times, as with the judgement,
Accolades, and finally the laughter.
When I'm gone, it'll finally be known,
Only then, in the great hereafter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem