To Die

To die over him is being kind to oneself,
This river is a dream all of its own.
While the ears listen, you perish and deny
The truth appearing before the present chaos.
A man’s fault is not death itself,
But his energy commands respect,
Like the sea clashing with rocks.
My sea is a house of pleasure for the deceased,
So listen to the waves crashing, discerning
The ways of our fathers,
Bespeaking the corrupt beliefs,
But at the same time striking awe.
We will die one day after another,
Our accusations remain,
But death overtakes the battalion
Like a house full of dates.