There are so many cruel days
distributed throughout the months of a life:
fortunes lost or never won,
sacred missions abandoned
or never begun,
kisses forgotten or remembered too long,
or worst of all, never tasted.
I've walked beneath the stars
and counted the decades wasted
and now I feel like a solitary soldier
with too many evils sated!
Did I kill and cast away the dead unburied?
Is that why I approach the end to go unmourned
Without family members or obsequies?
How will I enter the next kingdom
if even ancestral graves
sneer at me without acceptance?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem