Life is a funeral
With a flat-tired hearse
I am just another corpse,
Forced to walk in blistering sun
Stumbling towards a grave,
A service for no one
Yet when dirt falls,
The unholy churchyard is full
They smile, laughing
As they bury the damned
Not even bothering
To close the coffin lid
Above me, the bright sky
Slips farther away
As dirt clouds my eyes
Buried deeper all the time
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very morbid, I like it, though. Great writing, very deep.