End
To a seed there’s an end
Turns to bush, or tree then gives birth
Finds its way in some mouth; digested
There is end to eagle and pigeon or crow
Also fish and to whale, the deer and lions
They are food or make food as beds, soil.
Human is question!
Of no use and no help when alive not when dead
He’s buried in grave, secure in a box, maybe not.
We, therefore, should not cry when nature acclaims us.
With fire, with ice-rain or thunder using us as her food
“We’ve just learned of fire in Quebec and L'Isle-Verte.”
Said Mulcair,
Three dead, thirty lost and two-tens are injured overnight.
It’s Quebec, Canada and we’d laugh if it were Africa.
We would say “Illiterates, they are backward”
This is the end
A fire at home of seniors
Destiny or their fate has gathered,
Saadi has sea voyage; Appointment in Samarra.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem