This Pile thou seest built out of Flesh, not Stone,
Contains no shroud within, nor mouldring bone:
This bloodless Trunk is destitute of Tombe
Which may the Soul-fled Mansion enwombe.
This seeming Sepulchre (to tell the troth)
Is neither Tomb nor Body, and yet both.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem