all that is left of me will be
bones suffering takes the flesh and breaks
the nerves the sad times long
enough shall mellow these
bones into powder decently turning
later into a hundred or more
dusts then you shall
identify with me for dust
too is your final destiny
everything you are shall be dust too
you too shall mellow
now is the best time to talk
in the common ground of our final existence
but it will be too late
the strong wind by then
has blown us all away
scattered specks
lacking the specifics....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem