I solemnly questioned myself: "why shall I fear death?"
If I'm ready for its glare, so close and imminent;
Bereavement, this I'm not afraid, that I resent;
I'll carry this vow 'till the last of my breath.
This persona and attribution, I had theft;
This life I had lived, so brunneous, so blunt;
My purpose that I have taken for grant;
Forget me not, for I still have not left.
Bleeding, my heart is rusted zheleza;
Agonizing, my soul is tainted opal;
I have lost my dignity and pulchritude.
My body, possessed with logorrhea;
My faults and regrets, clearer than a crystal.
Unchain me from this suffering's magnitude.