Come close O death, if indeed you must
But do not touch. Nay, whisper rather
Some word of hope beyond your ugly crust
Decay I dare not, nor will not father.
But O the foolishness of word that speaks thus
When every day I see and feel diminishment
Like river flowing to the sea that makes no fuss
Meandering journey not taken as punishment.
So hard it is to take your hand and just let go
To let you lead beyond the doors of light
Through darkness where desires cannot know
The secrets of a plan that opens up the night
To myriads of stars so bright yet never seen
Until your hand O death, upon me has been.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem