Register the birth.
Now register the death.
All unfinished business
ends with the breath.
Ends. But then again begins
as we all come back for more.
Even though we long forgot
what it is we come back for.
Only while the breath continues
to feed the brain
and work the sinews,
can we put an end to pain
and stop it coming back again.
Keep a record of what's needed
to be done (or else undone) :
to be planted (to be weeded)
to be finished (or begun) .
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem