Death had come at last but he did
not know how and when it came
only moments ago he breathed so well
now he lay still flat on his back
the head placed perfectly on the pillow
the wrinkles on his face gone
he seemed so much at peace with himself
a bit cheerful too; if you ask me why,
death was only a means to end
his old body, to be reborn a child
we will bring up next year....
In memory of my father, who passed away suddenly,
one night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem