I am not very fond of poetry as a rule but I have always loved this piece, so I wanted to try my hand at it. I apologize for the liberties taken in changing some of the verse.
I won’t be here, I’ll be long gone;
To the earth returned, like everyone;
The waiters at my favorite café,
Won’t see me noisily sipping away.
And these streets I always pass,
Won’t hear my dry coughing hack.
Above my tomb, a tall cypress tree,
A pious monk, will watch over me.
And right there you’ll feel forlorn,
Because I won’t be in the room.
As the wind hits the windowpane,
You’ll cry with it, slowly insane.
But when you feel especially sad,
Look for me in the wooden shelf;
You’ll find me hiding inside the books;
Lurking in pages and haunting words.
You just have to pull out a few,
And I’ll pour out, enfold you.
You will laugh with me once more,
A blooming field watered by love.