It lay still in the box,
Ready to be transferred,
To be burnt as percustom,
Lifeless, it was,
But full of life
a few hours ago,
People adniring
The dead man's life,
Never done while alive,
He had a life of great
Expextations, his family
Mournig the grief
Of his departure,
especially, his wife, children
Who depended
On him for alivelihood,
His colleagues showing
Some grief, but not
Very true, since they
Imagined that it was
Not they in his place,
Holding on to life,
Which they din't know
What really to do with it,
The dead body's soul
May be happy,
Since it has finished
It's troublesome sojourn.
Ravikiran Arakkal
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem