Death, be not unkind.
Do not hold her long in your embrace.
Do not cause more pain by her unwanted continuance of this life.
I know that transition is inevitable, though I grieve
to think of her departure.
Suffering in the vacuum of her absence,
I shall not mourn, lest my mourning hinder the flight of her soul.
But, hold just a while that I may talk with her.
That I may say the things I should have said:
of her courage;
of the void she has filled in my life;
of my love for her.
Why do we wait to say the things we should
have said.
What? I have said those things before, you say?
Surely not. Surely, not enough times.
I fear she does not know.
You say I delay conclusion? Yes, if I could.
Reluctantly, I let go of her soul that it may fly
like a fragment of dawn, reflecting upon the face
of the Waters.
As an impassioned phrase from some familiar
line of verse that touches one's heart, a majestic
quiescence moves across her face.
Deep sleep.
Closure of this sojourn is now complete.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem