The greatest business of life is to prepare for death.
Keep your eyes fixed on the end of life.
What we call life is a journey to death,
and what we call death is a passport to life.
Death borders upon our birth,
and our cradle stands in our grave.
The old have death before their face,
and the young oblivious of the death wave.
Dying is as natural as living.
Death spares neither the wealthy or poor,
and is deaf, and hears no denial.
Hardships at our door - death at another door.
Death has nothing terrible in it,
but what life has made it so.
We are dying gradually as we struggle to live.
Life is labor, death is rest for the soul.
Death is the great leveller,
and keeps no almanac to record fame.
All good men and women will eventually die,
but death can not veto their name.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem