The Will

Just like the sun setting
And the night creeps out of it’s hut
My soul too shall crawl out of its hut
And I too will be gone like the sun sinking down into the sea

When I’m gone
Do not bother to befit my corpse
For the dead do not care about luxury

Just lay me down to rest without a haste
I need not a befitting burial
Nor a memorable memorial
A befitting life I do not taste

Lay me down to rest
Let my face look up to the sky
And watch the rising of the sun from the west
I’ve lived, perhaps I’ve done my best

Lay me down to rest
Let the moon be glad that it needn’t to light my path at night
Let the sun shine with glee for it has no more duty to dry my clothes