Death must be a pleasant respite from life,
Otherwise, why would I pray for it demandingly?
It must also be very precious and not an easy fare,
Otherwise, why would I write poems on death
And yet not die?
My Guru told me
That after the Atman leaves the body
The gross and the subtle also depart
And the body becomes senseless,
How long must I wait for the Atman to leave my body?
The wait is tortuous, most painful,
The slightest exertion makes me gasp for breath,
My sleep is too often disturbed by unpleasant thoughts,
The lack of oxygen in the blood makes me hallucinate.
I know, for the dead there is no grief or pain,
Why must I suffer more to get rid of my pain?
Can I prioritise pain?
Can I elect to offload mental pain first?
Who is to decide?
To whom can I say-
Do not test my limit,
I can no longer tolerate pain;
I think I should stop speculating about death
Only then will I die.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem