Abate the worries, think of no pain,
clouds of sorrows shall condense,
Thine prayers for the godly rain,
once have done, so will it shower,
Heads up, for now it is the hour.
Be thy soul be rinsed,
and all the gloom be washed away.
Death awaits, a must happen affair,
be ignorant, glide along in bliss,
savor the joy, of the end why do care.
Thine desires shall no more hide,
behold the wisdom, discover the unseen other side.
Greet the joy around on the way,
mould the joy from love, as the pot from the clay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem