Death is my friend.
We lie together on the ocean blown sand.
He is my gentle guide and saint.
He's rocked in my arms, and burrowed in my heart.
I found him playing in my crade, when I was just born.
Death is so loved by me,
Even his non-living ways.
As living as I may be,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem