The day I die,

come to my grave to see me off.

Bring the white flowers

of different, beautiful kinds

to place them on my coffin.

That day,

I won’t hold your flowers anymore.

I won’t cry tears any longer.

I will be lying there peacefully,

but the fire will burn

and the flames will rise that day.

The tears won’t roll down from your eyes.

You will find yourself crying.

The pain will never go away.

Your heart will cry out loud,

but the eyes will suffer more.

You will be able to look at me,

but I won’t turn to you, ever.