Oh! Do not feel sorry when I would go to meet my maker;
I could be a content soul, just mocking the soul-stealer!
Do not say goodbye, when I would lie still on the pyre;
I may just surround me with some forged flames of fire!
Do not garland my picture and do not wail my dearth;
Had been an aimless dart, just faking a golden rebirth!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I dont like this poem....so sad this is...