how can something beautiful
be so sick?
unable to explain itself
amidst the opulence of grace
how can sickness be a beauty
upon itself?
how can dying be gentle?
how can
death be happy
amidst those who cry
for its
early departure?
how can life once bouncing
with vigor
now weakened
kneel and then prostrate
itself
before the bones
of this world?
how can dust invade a
secluded sanctity?
it all depends on you....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem