Rejoicing over my death will be plentiful and of good quality.
Songs will be sung and bands will play the march of death for
me as I pass away.
Never staying too long in one place for very long, taking to
back roads where I am always most at home.
Run away with feelings and silently be happy for death has
played it's part well and I can no longer co-exist with others.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem