In my death there, truth was the pain, and
that eye left no spot on the clean earth, this
being known it was foisted off more hurriedly.
Compounded was the pain when counseled
and the lie of the pain splits the person, when
as truth, dressed to receive, robes of deception
and that lie even in death still lays concealed
blood now rests so hot and are some in death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Powerful theme, powered with apt words