"It's a damned shame that he died all alone, "
You say with ambivalent sympathy
At one point during the course of the day,
Now funereal with the death of a man
Who lingered uneasily in his life,
Bumping into others' conversations,
Smiling at girls who did not smile back;
"I'd like to think he's in a better place, "
You say, trying to ignore his absence.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem. It is true that in this modern life one can die in the cubicle and the machine of business will continue to run after one is gone as if one never existed.