Let the thunder blue-white lash,
fall like the voice of God,
while rain pours down
in its last refrain
and let my last memory be of your sweet face,
of the time that you truly did love me
while clouds fill the sky
and the earth’s arms to me unfold
but in sheer rebellion then burn my body
and scatter what is left
that I drift on the wind
become part of the wide world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem