The obituaries of some of these old ladies are quite a show,
Pictures of gorgeous young faces from eighty years ago,
Fashions were different because they were, way back then,
Those then beautiful fashions will never be seen again.
It’s very sad in a way because we’re all locked in time,
From nursery rhymes to obituaries in one long lifetime,
And we can’t make preparations to schedule the event,
The religious tell us, it’s heaven or hell; assent or decent.
The obituaries should be a message, that we have no control,
And death with dignity should be our eventual goal,
Unfortunately they’ve made the law, that this is illegal,
So we may die in pain instead of soaring like an eagle.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem