WHILE I AM DYING:

Promise you will talk to me while I am dying,

Talk of when we were young & we held hands,

Smile on me, soft flowers & sweet summer suns,

Weep me, the happy tears of bright saline stars,

Kiss me moon-beams, upon my frozen lips of ice,

Whilst waxing lyrical, in the last hour of my ebbing,

And as I wane, please sing me songs of Gaelic birds,

So that I may waft gently upon your sweet breath,

To my heaven´s bed of swan´s downy soft feathers,

Please talk to me of these things while I am dying,

For I know, upon your spoken tongue I feel no fear.