What is left but the ashes of my life
of all that came before?
What of the future, still unknown?
What waits beyond life’s door?
Can I take with me all the things
that I can remember?
It’s hard for me to recollect my birth
from a distant cold December.
My memories, one by one accumulate
and become my private pain.
Well, what of the joys and loves I had,
surely they will remain
amongst the earthly realms I knew.
And only those that knew me well
will feel the toll that is death’s knell
as into the wind my ashes blew.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem