Life be proud, though some have called you mortal,
Dreadful and fearsome, for you are not so.
For those who think you a horrid accident,
Die poor in spirit long before they die.
Nor yet can death kill you; you are eternal,
Continuing, everlasting, and true.
Those who know you do not dread your essence;
They embrace you, finding rest and peace within.
Much pleasure they derive from your embrace,
And much more flows to them from your deep truth.
The wise, the learned, our best men, do not
Flee from you, but welcome your vast expanse.
And death shall be no more for them; for death,
You shall die, and life will carry on in strength.
MyKoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem