Death cannot touch me here,
Beside the buzz, the beep and the whir.
Everything is copacetic.
The life I've lived,
The loves I've lost
All come back to visit.
Death cannot touch me here.
Not the sweat that falls off my bald head
And onto my adjustable bed;
Nor the wires that flow from thin arms,
that tell the machines to sound the alarms.
Death cannot touch me here,
because I am already gone.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem