Here I Am Born

The immortality of great writers.

My love, I do not feel the coldness of the grave,

And I do not see the darkness in death.

To my writing I will become a slave,

The words I write will become my breath.

Through my work my life will be saved.

 

My leather-bound book will become my form,

Claim a new body when my old one becomes dust.

Darling, the cold ink that you now see will forever be warm -

Like the hot dew of my blood as it rusts.

At death, my life will truly transform.

 

And dear, even though my bones may break apart,

Through the youthful pages they will endure.

As my ashes lie beneath, my life will truly start

As your cherished memory of me remains pure.

My work will be my voice �" the kisses from my heart.

 

Do not engrave my stone with “Here Lies”,

But “Here Lives” is what my tomb will say.

The birds will not mourn me; there shall be no cries,

No willow will weep over; the skies will not colour grey

The rising moon will not hold sorrowful eyes.

 

And so my love, I hope you do not grieve and sigh.

For when I die, in my precious writing I’ll lie �"

My spirit is entwined within your mind.

My death is not the end; do not let tears taint your skin

Because of my legacy, the grave is where I begin.