When I will meet thee, O Death
I will never beg thee to spare my breath,
For though my body under thy sway,
Like a once-blooming flower, will wither away,
in fields of light my soul shall forever shine
In realms of joy and love divine.
And though thy blows my life will end
My will to love God will never bend.
Thus, come and I will meet thee with a joyous heart
Like when lovers meet after being torn apart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem