Are you sad when you're dead; all your cells
Still think they're working for you,
Though I went where you led, now you're
Gone, and there's nothing to do.
Do you lie in fetid silence, lids closed upon
Every tomorrow; is there nothing
To be left now, of whatever you once were?
Is the soul what a man is; more than snakes
More than snails, more than letters
In a string; can't make up what is real,
When matter finally finds its voice to sing.
Do you lie in fields of clover, smiling
At secrets, we can only dream,
Safe from sorrow, safe from fear?
Floating down on ethereal streams..
Are you sad when you're dead, all your cells
Still think they're working for you,
Drifted off, to some farther somewhere
But know: every life lived once was always true.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good soulful thoughts. The questions are so real!