When Big Al died after his last show
they buried him in his golden suit
and laid his favourite guitar on his headstone
under the shelter of an enormous oak tree
just as he had requested
As the sun goes down his spirit rises from the grave
picking up his instrument with joy
he will play it until the sun rises
before going back to rest
At midnight he will start to sing his favourite songs
his voice echoes around the grave yard
the moon shines off his sparkling suit
providing a light show for the others watching
young and old alike joining in
just as the crowds did when he was still alive
It is said that he will sing until the end of days
becoming one with the notes and tunes
it's the closest he can get to immortality
living on through the music and memories
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem