I wish to die before you

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

the other after death?

I do not think this.
You had better burn me,
keep me in your room, in an urn
   on the stove.
And choose an urn of glass,
clear, white glass
   that shows you me inside.
You understand my sacrifice:

I will never turn to earth,

I will never flower

   but I will stay beside you.
I would rather turn to dust
    so I might live with you.
Then, when you die,
you can visit my glass.

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

no different than I am.

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

to make 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 such things may change
by my time of dying.

Do you think they might let

you walk free one of these days?

My insides
   say maybe.
 

Ben Senden Önce Ölmek İsterim by Nazım Hikmet

Translated September 6, 2020

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