all death is murder
do not lie to her
and say you went willing
to be graveyard filling
it is the hope of one good day
that keeps us on our way
to have him in reach of fingertips
to have her between your loving lips
to be gone, to be forgot
who would surrender to the rot?
life is the grudging fight
to make to the next day light
but to submit to the graveyard cold?
who could ever be so bold?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem