We have lies and love mixed together,
Mixed like mortar with wise appeal.
Our happy signs mean so much for us,
Yet returning to the senses of our limbs
Reminds us of more pacts with life.
The life we meal is forever closed just now
For the blood and guts and gore is wrong to do -
Our life should end in a minute, in solid speech,
So that your signs are beheld, and written.
These are lasting hours of rectification,
Please do understand enormous deeds
And your love I complete without death,
Death is when it comes, when it comes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem