Here was he set to flame, a big hash
And half-wit, now consigned to grey ash
Spare tears, all the ho-hum,
Gone hast he as had come,
Lifetime of fruits to fetch, right with rash!
If man's born to burn, smoulder all life—
Let this fire of last pyre be no strife.
Death's to lose the dross left,
Life's remnant, warp with weft,
And whatso spared be by surgeon's knife.
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These two limericks are self epithets. And my wish is expressed in the second: Let a surgeon take away whatso he deems fit for medical use.
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Musings | 04.11.11 |
Death is the ultimate reality and no body will ever escape.This mortal body will surely turn to ashes... but a wish is expressed to make the body useful for medical use after death. The poem is written with great humanistic view.
Thank you Bharati Nayak for digging out this old poem that was long buried as it were. You have an eye.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Further, it just occurred to me, everyone in this time and world is pressed for time. We generally see the poems penned last from among the five given by PH., and give our feedback. Those missed somehow remain missed. But still wonder what can be done about it.