If you should die before my illness ends,
I shall partake in pilgrimages of love to the only one
Who lost my light, tonight the news of the good news
Shall enter the hearts of the purified ones,
Who live with death as a simplification of tragedies.
My comic design creates and recreates
Accordingly, in this sense a part has entered my
Lightning that bars others from action.
The thunder of the earth and soil is according
To designs of the lords and ladies of the earth and
Soil, shuddering under the overwhelming
Heat of the sun and stars,
A little moon appears this century
To function a deep word too forgiven.
My map of the soul is aghast by the living
Souls, my martyrdom shall be amassing
Wealth for the ready soldiers who live
Little are their acts of apostasy, little acts
Are only to forgive if repentance is enjoyed.
My mapping of the soul is like the global
Dilemma, a right of the life is also upon the hill
Onlooking the valleys of the golden hearts.
Topic(s) of this poem: death,illness