when you are still a soft toddler
If sucking the milks of your mother,
Cease your sighs between her arms
You will catch cold, sickness and harms;
To Lay among her breasts and bosom
Give her an ugly ache or maybe some
If you wish to rest your head save,
on the pillow of your broken grave.
Or if at full man, win evil with good
Your sleeping grave is your two shoes
do not tie a rope on you neck either
Death's on your bed, kiss and hug her
The way to live life is the way to die
How to weep is not through the eye
if you wish to live, love nothing but love
Eat no earthly birds nor ducks but dove
the day we are born ere we give our first cry
Is the virtuous, it is a good day to die.
Salte
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem