the corpse, when dead
waked and walked away, nude,
saving the last faces,
under-cloths,
and the sweat and spittle
for the kinsmen.
the police took the under-cloths;
spittle and feces,
for the street dogs,
and some sandals
swept the last sweats.
thus that death was
not orphaned.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
quite tragic but let hope arise!