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Death like fate, respects no faith
Death like a stubborn child
Respects no parents who chide
Death, sent by the deity as a reaper
Knows men's time like a time keeper
Unknown to a man, it rings a bell
Of a known time of passing
Then a man drops dead
And his cups and corpse, people dread
A man is cut off from the sinful world
And can no longer hear or say a word
At death
As an umbilical cord is cut off from the belly
At birth
Very hot are the cold hands of death
Who dare shake those cold hands?
Death shudders shoulders, even to the bones
Who dare remove from the dusts, stones?
The daunting stones that shelter a grave
Who dare, for the death that kills, crave?
Death takes dear ones and then their dearth
Death takes the wicked and then they are weak
Who dare board the plane of death, even gratis?
The plane that must crash, in spite of practice
All of us shall die one by one
The rich and the poor
The blacks and the whites
Like condemned criminals that await
Firing squad
Death, even this painful day of death
When a man enters the tomb
Is more joyful than the day of birth
When a man leaves the womb
Howling as if he is going to die
Death, even this painful day of death
The dead is wrapped in white shroud
A sign of joy and purity
But his mourners wear black and bark
Like sympathizers who cry more than
The bereaved
A believer that is sure of heaven often asks
What is this death that people dread?
A sure way to heaven and rest with God
Enjoying freedom from sin and toil
When the body enters the soil
Do not come to me, oh death!
Till the hairs in my head become white
Like a bleached cloth
Do not come to me, oh death!
Till I develop the third leg
The leg that is not natural
Do not come to me, oh death!
Till I sell all my goods; my couture
And empty my cloths' sack
Then my grievers may not wear sackcloth
At my funeral