Asleep to the world;
Death seems to be my only confederate.
I congregate my feelings and look forward anyways;
i have many premonitions that show I won't have a prerogative life.
I keep my preserve of a positive state;
The devil's bringing me back and prohibiting me from that state of mind.
Content with my life now;
I must pull down the last salvage of my life.
Now my thoughts should be content;
Deep in a sarcophagus they must lie comatose.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem