There is no language after death
no thought no culture no habit
discourse none no quarrels nor amorous speech
no deceitful words nor confused stammering
no promises made for private or public good
no orders no requests no shouts nor brawls
no dogmatic adherence to coded faith
no hopes expressed nor regrets sadly voiced
no tone embellished with fire or ice
no slips no fluffs no spoonerisms there
no sentimental pouring forth nor esoteric lore
no broken vows stinging words no more
but eternal silence shall rule the soul
which without language will remain all whole.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem