We plan for it
We even expect it
But when it comes to death
It is the one thing
We are never ready for
There are always things
That are left undone
Things we planed to do
And could never find the time
But the truth be told
No matter when death comes
There's always something left to do
Something that we wish
We had remembered
Yes, when it comes to death
The one thing
We never expect
The one thing
That we never plan for
The one thing
That we are never
Really ready for
Is dying
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
There's always one more poem to write. So far I haven't made time for reading obituaries. I miss a few deaths, but oh well.