In the city you were born
Lanky and fair and later bearded
You never had been home many times
And not many will know you.
More on your final sleep
As you will arrive
Cotton bolls in your nostrils.
City born
City bred
And now a village man
As you lie not blinking
Maybe dreaming about
The city of yore.
Those who mourn
Mourn for your father
Those who mourn
Mourn for your mother
For they do not know you
We mourn you
As you lie asleep
Not looking at anybody
Not knowing anyone
When they told us
You were born we rejoiced
Now that you are swallowed
By the same city we mourn.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem