In the beginning
In remembrance of the trickling sand
Not the sand clock
Not the beach sand
Laying out there on the morgue
Yes him
Cast hard like a plaster
Vanish thin in trickles
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Attempt to wake but cant
Attempt to speak but cant
Dead and gone
One with nature
Whistling like the palms
High like the clouds
Trickle out of existence
Back to nature
In the end
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem