Life has death due to sickness,
Ephemeral life contains death at the end
Of sickness.
Dulcet living spreads with a dalliance,
Forcing me and others to die.
I mean eloquence rules, and life rules death,
Always forgetting bubbles of dishonour.
A comely idea springs to the foreground
With stately appearance, not like lagoons
But like topaz, or diamonds, or rubies all-red.
An ineffable pride, slung on your back,
Creeps up more, and more, and more.
Life has turned into death as fast as the soul.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem