Pyre of wood is made where I am laid,
with wood up and below without a thread.
Bare came I and bare I go without a shred,
the luxury left behind and without dread.
No more do I fear the hunger or the lust,
nor bribe to fulfill the luxury and worldly toast.
The toast of luxury has no meaning for me,
for I m now in the soul of almighty Thee.
Accepted or rejected who cares for the dime,
bare I came bare I go because chime strikes time.
Gathered are all the near ones and the friends,
friends then I was for them and now a useless dead man.
Thanks all bad mark of the past is forgotten,
all words of praise is spoken no malice taken.
When alive corners were full of voices of complains,
the groups talk of my evils and the friends of my meanness!
My bloods move with chest high and with pride of corrupt dime,
unaware one day their chest will be left heavy when comes my time.
All the malice forgotten and the words sonorous and sweet,
fake eulogy by beautifully framed garland of high praising words.
Alas!
I get a shock in my death bed thinking of bad done to them,
all my friends who forgets and forgives all my past crime.
Tears started to flow so intense the fire cannot dry,
the tears of repentance so thick and cold under the fire.
Trying to get up from the pyre to unveil my past attire,
but, Alas! from up and below I m in the wooden attire.
Uffff! cannot get up and face the real and uncover the past,
the destination is set and cannot rediscover and correct the past.
In the procession I m the best of the best and a real family man,
all is over, the rumor moves and the talk is on, the evil is gone!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
An interesting poem. Unfortunately it is also very true that once our final day has passed it is too late to make amends. What I find funny is that when you attend a funeral, all anyone ever talks about is the good of the person. No one mentions their not so admirable qualities or misdeeds. Which is why I tend to feel the whole pageantry of the funeral process is a little bit of a farce. But to each his own I suppose!