Death do come to me
when I am old,
weary of reluctant smiles
and afraid of being bold;
Brush away my flesh
as desert wind do to spoors on a dune.
Death do come to me
when I am ill;
out of cure,
and feeble of living will.
Take away this bed of burden
so that they may spare the bill,
Death do come to me
when I am astray;
gaming life,
consuming fortunes day by day.
Violently erase me,
bury me, forget me.
Death do come to me
whenever I do not come to thee...
--
In the House of Remaining Snow,
We dance and sing, make merry while the days
are long.
--
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