''Crust and dust'' is what they'll ever remain
Cring'd-away, from their deep fetid cremain'.
Died in battles, or died in lover's bed
Either ways, they're dead, being dead is being dead.
Sleeping under the evergreen churchyard
The mourners await the epitaph bard;
Enamels of earth, open to be fed;
Either ways, they're dead, being dead is being dead.
Coffins well seal'd to prevent coming wraith
Heaven or hell? To heaven we gauged faith;
Lifeless beings beneath heavy earth weigh lead
Either ways they're dead, being dead is being dead.
''Crust and dust'' with time bodies shall decay
Crust' hard bones turn dust, being alive, i'll pray;
What differs? Staying alive or being dead?
Either ways we're dead, being dead is being dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem