Do not sweat or rain for me,
while I slip and fall to absences.
Do not sob at the gate of my silence;
nor wither in way-keeping in wait for me,
for I am not Jesus.
Do not waste your unclothed tears on the thumbs of my tomb;
for the throne of my grave do not have fears but hears the mocking crocodile affections.
Do not wait for the rebirth of my death,
for I am not red but lead by the loudness of silences.
So I do not slumber nor faint to darkness.
I float in a million clouds, which arouse ray and day.
I play and pray with the rainbow; till it snores to sleep.
I rear my lips for the moonlight;
for it gains heaps of ripened joy from my kisses.
I am! I am!
I am the cozy sun that rains across the morning paradise,
and uplifts the day to crush for the night.
I heal the quarrel within the squirrel of love and the circle of hate.
I glow in the absences of presences,
and flow with the most flawless twinkles that winks at joy.
So don't morn for me,
for I am happier than death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem