Let me fall under some natural-disaster
the eye of a storm picks up the hereafter.
Be felled as if by a random act of god,
let my ashes be sprinkled over the sod.
Be mingled with the waters-ever-present
in the driest desert, moister is-permeated,
it intersperses with the sands and the stars
camels - entering riders' their own bazaars.
Their midnight dreams, restless perspiring limbs,
all are in his death throes, sing-know many hymns.
Some killed by an avalanche, some drown at sea
some pandemics take but please, please God, not me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem