For every souls are Unto dead
No one has a short coming
Labours and toiled are for the mortals.
I had cried my crying
Don't stand on my grave
And cry for me if I die.
Will I been afraid of a cloak of
The nightmares?
The roaring Iion doesn't hurt
But fears killed it's preys.
My son
Fear is a cheapest weapon to conquered a fool.
I had cried my crying
Don't cry for me if I die
Who had not sinned
Should first cast a stone
But the preacher exclaimed
The souls that sinneth shall die.
Father, why all souls dying?
Why are the wickeds tarry
To bade the night to her bed?
The righteous are like the sinners?
I had cried my crying
Don't cry for me if I die
What a man can boast of?
A worths of Silvers or golds?
Life he had it a borrowed
A talent that cannot be stored
What Worth's a life then, father?
People forgot you once you die
How more beautiful a women
She is most capable to tell a lie.
Don't stand on my grave and weep
I had cried my crying
Don't cry for me if I die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem