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I will die soon. I need to wait no more than
A little bit on this so gloomy earth.
I’m now free. My soul is like an orphan.
I’m ready, and the loop’s already thrown.

I pray the loop. Who else than, would you tell me?
It might be, at the top there is someone.
I don’t believe in hell or even heaven –
Sweet flattery, which was for people done.

I do not know. And I don’t want to know it.
I’ll die and see. I pray again the loop
To do its work. My soul is nearly going
To somewhere else. I let her to break loose.

But when the final crow will eat my flesh,
And nothing will no longer breathe in me.
Let him, who’s at the top, the God, perhaps,
My poems just to hear…