What if the cold
Hands of death flings
About me today
In your absence,
Create a hindrance
Against me crossing over
To the hallowed side?
Honesty is not just in words
But in deeds
Nurtured on time
While we live.
Some may chicken-out of you
Take to the streets
Protest your worth
Here lies their vulnerability
To the ways of the world.
I will build thee a house
Before my final reward-
A habitation for my household unend
They will spell you
As the words
On the marble of my epitaph
Going a brave man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem