Until you accept invitation to dying
your trees will not green
nor your flowers blossom
nor the fruit over the branch ripen
Dying increases your zest for living
adds fun, revelry and song
all good things to make life livable
teaches you how precious it’s be alive
Rejoice at the small little happenings
this house of love you carry wherever you go
your one false move can spell the cosmic doom
therefore keep vigil whether asleep or awake
In this frosty night
I toil hard to make a bridge over the abyss
but tightening all around me is a thick shroud
of death-cold silence.
(Yayati)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem