DEATH AND THE OLD MAN
OLD MAN:
Death, old death, where are you going?
I am tending my field and not yet ready
To go with you to the other phase.
DEATH:
Old man, I am going to the village to kill
Tend your farmland for your time hasn't come.
OLD MAN:
How many people will you kill in the village?
Please don't kill more than five in the lost village
I advice you kill all the corrupt and the looters
DEATH:
I will kill just five and go
Nothing more, just five and am done.
OLD MAN:
A promise, don't kill more than five
DEATH:
Yes, a promise
'Later in the day'
OLD MAN:
Dear old death, you have broken your promise
You killed many, your hand was heavy on them
Why did you break your deal with me old friend!
DEATH:
Old man, I didn't break our deal; I killed just five
But my fear killed thousands.
The fear of death himself killed many than death my dear old man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The dialogue between death and the old man is breath taking and a reality that few can ignore: The fear of death himself killed many than death my dear old man.