When Death has seized our earthly frame some day,
And gets our soul released, Creator-bound;
What does it matter palled or coffined, say?
No more can worldly travails ever hound.
Some get incinerated, fit, unfit;
None can prevent the Ants and Worms from work;
Or Vultures, Fishes, beasts that devour it;
No more can Death upon us again lurk.
Some mummified by years are-looked with awe;
Some dissected to show man's various parts;
Some fossilised are found when ice-does thaw;
Most go -to soil again when life departs.
When life has gone and soul has left our frame,
Nothing remains our name, fame, blame or shame.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem