When I die,
Cry not your heart out
Nor weep any tears at my grave
I will not see you, cry for me now.
With light nervous steps, he trod in
As one aroused from an upshot of gin
And stood abashed, a shadow ill-prepared,
His sealed quivering lips unassured
Some nights, when the moon is happy
Smiling broadly from its heavenly home.
A small crowd gathers in the yard;
Grandma, mother, aunty and the others
Behold the light fades and rises not
And the cute little stars hide in shame
The moon fears to show her face
And day and night become as one.
There is a house, half in ruins
At the other end of the village
Battered and ravaged by wind and rain
Half the walls lie prostrate