Oh death! Thou art a murderer!
Thou have killed my maternal mother;
Thou have killed my father's mother
And left my father's - father's fate in the hands of faithful grief.
Oh death! Thou shall surely die!
I would be the first face at thy funeral;
singing a joyous, rhythmic hymn, singing a melody of voiceless valediction
And clapping my hearty hands to thy slayer.
Oh death! Thy stregnth shall soon sleep!
I would be the ministering Pope
Burning thy burial-mass incense;
i would preach a homily of victory
Ovee thee that thought would not die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem