As light fades from eyes,
A life with unfulfilled desires,
Due to a bullet hitting a bullseye,
Counting down the left over time.
Memories flashing every passing second,
Just another soul tried to go beyond,
Everything now flushed down the drain,
Tears flowing under this overwhelming pain,
'Mom... Dad...' were the last words mentioned.
Under this last radiant sunset,
Nobody even prepared a casket,
As now it's just an untold history,
A perfect ending bestowed by the destiny.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
If death is so sad and to be mourned, why is the sunset so colourful? There are many communities who celebrate death as liberation from the confinement in the body made of Panchabhuta