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I wish to die before you

I wish to die before you.
Do you think one can find

the other after dying?
I do not think this.
You would better have me burned,
keep me in your room, in a jar
   on the stove.
The jar must be glass,
clear, white glass
   so you can always see me.
You understand my sacrifice:

I will not become the earth,

I become no flower
   so I may stay beside you.
I will turn myself to dust
    so I may live with you.
Then, when you die,
you can visit my glass.

And we can live there
your ashes in my ash,
until a wayward bride
or ingrate son removes us.
But by this time, you will be

no different than I am.

So even in our place of waste,
our parts will fall together.
We will penetrate this earth together.
And if one day a wild seed
sprouts in our wet dirt,
it will bear two flowers,
    for you and for me.
I do not think yet of death.
I still mean, as of yet,

to bear another child.
My life overflows me.
Heat overflows my blood.
I will live, so much, so much,
that you will live along with me.
Death is not frightening.
It is just distasteful
the way we are buried,
but this tradition may be changed
by my time of dying.
Could it be that you will leave
your prison cell one of these days?
My insides
   says maybe.


Ben Senden Önce Ölmek İsterim by Nazım Hikmet

Translated September 6, 2020

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