Like the setting sun,
So tender and peaceful,
Into my tomb ill sink,
Saying' bye'to sweet nature.
When i die,
Ill seduce the wind,
Ask him to guide you,
In all you do.
When i die,
Heavens gates will open,
Ill claim the poetic pen,
Write poems of praise.
When i die,
Ill still live on.
Through the hungry kids,
You can love me still.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem