We the men and women of the world,
Remain annoyed
With brothers, sisters and fellow beings;
Spend lives
Dining the dinners of hatred,
Taking the waters of hypocrisy,
Breathing the air of arrogance.
We trouble, we tease, we torment,
Plotting, playing
Against them the foul games;
And when one dies,
Departs to the world next,
We gather around the corpse
With tied jaws, close eyes, wrapped in shroud.
We shriek and shout, we weep and wail
We cling to the feet, fall to embrace the deceased,
We sniff back the tears,
Some shed them as does a crocodile,
We wipe, rub the noses to make them red,
As if we are bruised and battered by the pang.
Along the coffin
We move with pretentious sullen hearts,
As if we have a load of grief to haul.
Putting into grave we throw handfuls of dust,
In fact we dust the eyes
Of participants of the burial.
All rites then after we perform
To nourish the bellies with the dishes sweet,
Though the deceased might have died of hunger.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
We humans can be hypocrites and much of that hypocrisy shows up at funerals. Thanks for a poem that is brave enough to confront readers with truth.