My Final Words
This creativity was like stirring living embers
when at seventy-six I tried to remember,
My life and living were all full of flavour from
my village to my present chamber.
For many my words may seem just ashes but
to me they‟re burning coal,
I have lived this presentable life myself each
day and thus spoke my soul.
Now a deadly chill comes over me as the last
days of life loom before me,
A thousand hearts lay bleeding on the
pavement of this memorial yard you see.
The hearts that were bubbling with joy and
peace with fond memories,
Now they are weeping and lamenting all the
present with many worries.
The pigeons and the birds that were singing the
song of love with pleasure,
They are swinging on the branches of dry trees
because they have lost a treasure.
This short life is now wasted after the bitter
taste of her sudden departure,
My head and heart are now almost splitting
with this unbearable torture.
Like a gentleman of doom I am strolling out
without any pleasure,
I am desperately looking for my Pretty Lotus
and her heavenly composure.