When you cover me with soft earth,
Note my Wasiyat, I leave behind:
Plant a chinar tree upon my grave.
Let its roots drink deep of my soul,
And its branches reach toward the heavens.
When weary travelers pass by me,
May they breathe the coolness of my heart,
Its fragrance mingling with their weary sighs,
A cool for their scorching spirits.
Let the birds find peace within my boughs,
Building nests of love and quiet joy.
I shall arise again, not dust to dust,
But as a great chinar—majestic, eternal, alive.
~ MyKoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem