All the writing is faded,
The name and the age,
All the flowers are dead,
It’s such an outrage,
The grass has grown longer,
The flowerpots cracked,
There are so many bodies,
The graveyard is packed,
I tidy the first,
And then the next one,
Mother and daughter,
And father and son,
Who were all these people?
Who I could not save?
Do I want to join them?
Do I want my own grave?
Do I,
Do I,
Do I,
Do I die; do I die; do I?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem