His family came with him to the nursing home,
Spread themselves round his bed; he was irritable as wool-
Scratched by everything, stood there.
They left one by one and there he lay
Closed in on himself, like one word from a day-
Trying to die, cause he just couldn't stay.
Several days later, I held his hand too late-
The fire in his eyes was beginning to fade.
He went somewhere far, I guess he's still there;
Much happier too, if the rumored God wills.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem