when i die,
please do not
grief for me,
do not even shed a tear
for i live on
in the hearts
of those who care
the field where we
plough for each other's
spiritual growth
this physique
you know, is a shadow
of a life that lives on
draw a painting
of me instead
and speak to me
whenever you can
it will be more fruitful that way
speak to that part
of the universe
that perpetually
holds us dear
speak to your own heart
where you have carved
a room for me
where i had worked
and marked for
our rendevouz
here, i snugly wait for you
to come each night
- to softly whispher
to me your dreams
where i pray
for all of them
to come true
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderfully true. Hang the painting on the carved room wall. Good job. Richard