*
I have come to this graveyard,
Where I am sitting
On badges and plasters
To wave off suppuration
Against flying flies and germs
And In my Superstition
My hair undone,
Like a scarlet woman
veiledly with a black wrapper,
My mother and father's relatives too
In procession enrobed,
we all ardor grief
In this earth I am solely sitting,
We had trudged a cemetery,
Of the known and unknown
As bees buzzing round the streets
In a last measure,
Like the soldiers ants trudging
Still.
On a funeral procession
Dirges sang
A Song that had led my parent,
In their wooden flats
Between the two ridges
Here were they are carefully laid,
O! death on this earth
Is as wicked as sprite.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem