My Friends do not think I am Dead
I am traversing a Life beyond Life
A Life which only Hero’s claim
A reward for their Heroic Strife.
Rejoice, folks! I am not Dead
I lie here for eternal Life;
A coward’s bullet in the battle field
Cut a Hero’s Heart like a blunt knife!
My Friends do not think I am Dead
I am traversing a Life beyond Life
A Life which only Hero’s claim
A reward for their Heroic Strife.
Weep not, my dear, at my mound
It holds me like a baby in mother’s womb
I get nourished by ethereal sap
Oozing out from all around my tomb.
O dear visitor! Be kind to my Soul
Sit down and drink until you drop
Leave behind the goblets small
Let bottle after bottle gently plop.
Let the tips of green grass around sparkle
With Stars of life-giving dewy wine
Let the holy soil of my last abode
Smell sweeter with the redolence of vino fine!
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