When I am to die my life must be born,
When I am to die my death must be bliss afterwards.
Inside the soul is some pain,
Inside the body was a gel or spirit or gem,
Like a peaceful anger, inner anguish steamed.
Where is my soul when it expires from my world?
It is my world that has been like other souls,
There it is far and near, here the suffering is complete.
Outside the mind is a puzzling distress,
Where achievements rank superior to others.
Why is my heart to glisten like eyes?
It is due to dying light becoming fierce like
Shining, glistening light of the senses.
If my eyes should query the ideals of my forefathers,
It is the lust of a resident in my home that must stay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem