She didn't die, she didn't die,
It’s no use to cry, no use to sigh;
We wear person-hood like suits of flesh,
Change it out sooner or later, for fresh.
She's only going some place else,
Gone to see a baby in North Dakota-
She's not gone, she's coming back;
She didn't die, it’s no use to cry.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This sounds like a personal event sublimated to poetry on paper as a personal expurgation - or did I shoot behind the clay? either way I felt a serious anxiety and reply of which i cannot assume the veracity.... which leaves me....