Something's angry when you die
The cells for life, on you relied;
Some people brought back from the brink
Recall a special hell, they think
Where darkness rules, and screaming's heard-
Because life is to be preferred-
And clutching fingers, violent hands
Can sense the ties of life, disband.
Something senses deep within
That being dead must be a sin;
To lose one's life would have to be
Of sin, the utmost penalty.
The brain unknowing about death,
Only knows the cease of breath,
But eyes a farther light must seek:
Leave body to its own relief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem