When I thought of that ominous day,
The day I'd be laid to rest alone,
The day the earth would hold me tight,
The day loved ones would bid their farewell and depart,
Leaving me to eternal silence.
I'd be forsaken in that desolate abode,
No gentle voice to whisper my name,
No comforting words to ease my pain,
No loving hand to soothe my final rest,
I'd be but a memory - a fading tale.
The thought of this day,
This glorious day fills my heart with dread,
Fear grips my soul as my courage fled,
Pity clings to my doomed fate,
As I think this inescapable day.
Oh, mighty one, beware your mortal thread,
For soon you'll be but a distant memory,
Your delicate skin becomes feast for termites,
And your legacy whispers through the night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem