Your death shall forth smile
Old friend
The bed is weary
And us all-
Her stolen joy shall live
As a widow
She don’t have pray
And awake side all night
Or sell those rags of her
Your death shall forth smile
Old friend
For you too
Your daughter
Shall sneak my warmth
To pay your bill
It is inevitable
Not a poison to death
I hope certainly you rest tonight
And let everyone rest
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem