Happy what's left of me after I'm gone

If only one of the songs sung

Lives beyond the person singing in me now.

Yet I would not save from the slaughter

A single one of the songs I sang and sing.

 

Instead from the entrails of oblivion

I would steal the laughter of children

And the age of the proverb.

 

And so to those who come 

I would offer intact the enigma of light