every day I look into death
and the face of death
straight up and down
and up side down
at odd moments
he will sound his horn
sometimes
creeping up from behind
designing to take me
by surprise
he wants to do away with me,
call in my markers settle accounts
I slyly tell this cunning cheat
I'm not at home today
take some other poor soul
death is that other part
of living
we try not to talk about
death be gone, get out of sight
alas, he sticks to me
like a leech
sipping my strength
tapping on my inner ear
knocking on my door
in seperate are we
this carbuncle on my back
tumor of my mind
seeks to speek
why isn't Death a She
she gives birth
brings life
I will not betray her trust
I'll go on living
and to the devil with death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem