From the grave

Bury me, my love, in the rays of the sun.

Next to me, place a cross for the loved one.

Make it silver, so I may not return to you

On nights when the ground is too loose.

Do not plant any trees at my headstone,

For the rain doesn't reach that zone.

And my pain from the days when I lived

Will hurt them, and won’t let them thrive.

Nor flowers nor bushes should you plant!

For I don’t want them to die on my land.

My grave isn’t wept for by angels or clouds,

So they will become for me other shrouds.

Tie my feet with a chain or a string,

So I won’t rise from my grave in the night.

For I’ll come as a man in your dream,

And you’ll see just a stranger in me.

From today, do not come to my grave,

For my bones and my flesh have no name.

All I want is to write with my blood in the sky:

We’ll love, we’ll be loved, and then we will die.