Would a death uproot sorrow if it were a friend?
Or would it under-root the sorrow found within?
Would a death light your life if it were your brother?
Or would you wallow in a bed of pain and sorrow?
Would the death of a life bring a fire to your eyes?
Or would tears still be falling from your eyes?
Would any death affect your only soul?
Or even break the bonds within your home?
Would you weep if forced to meet your mother's very grave?
Or would you seek for reasons why, when they're right beneath your eye?
Will you die in loving memory?
Or will you die in bitter pride?
Does it matter how you feel?
Or do you even feel at all?
Will life exist without you here?
Or will it end beside you there?
Will falling lives reflect you so?
Or will you prove them wrong?
If death encompassed you alone,
Would it really mean a thing?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem