I want you to be happy when I'm gone
When you mourn me, make your mourning bright
Adjusting what you long for to the light
Nor need you love the less what has passed on
The art of memory is celebration
Yearning that turns sorrow into song
Opening a heart forever young
Upon the unmade bed of its creation
Then celebrate my life, and also death
On which I, like a mendicant, depend
Begging that my suffering might end
Even as I fight for every breath
Hold onto me with unresentful tears
A testament to what we've learned of love
Pleased again to move as your heart moves
Partaking with no loss in passion of
Years as rich and full as were our years
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem