After Death

 
Step by step like a serpent, death approaches.
Before I can blink again,
it will come close, seize my neck, drag me away
one day to that mystical realm.


Whether that new world is darkness or light, evil or good,
I'll know for certain long before learning such things,
here is the end of the path, here the beginning of endings.


Perhaps tomorrow I'll set the alarm to wake early,
won't unfold the creases in my favorite shirt,
or maybe tell someone, "See you tomorrow, okay?"


The sun will rise just the same, birds will wake singing,
flowers will bloom as they always do—only this sleep will never break.


This side, that side...what is truth, what falsehood in reality,
before understanding any of it I'll understand completely,
all that keeps this world merely busy is emptiness.


Someone else will take over my desk,
another person will eat rice from my plate,
even the owner of my room will have changed by then.


My beloved bed, sheets, teacup and wristwatch,
thousands of unread books on dusty shelves,
even my dearest person will belong to someone else.


That day the word "late" will be written before my name,
the candle called life will be extinguished in death's womb.