Austere, aged trees standing since years.
Shrubs, grasses and wild flowers abound.
Similar in appearance, grave after grave.
Serenity everywhere, tranquility surround.

But matter is different from beneath the earth.
Serenity is just an illusion beneath the skies.
Let not the perpetual calmness deceive them.
All those who look with their worldly eyes.

Their deeds accompany them in their graves.
All alone the dead ones never dwell.
Grave is but a garden from gardens of heaven.
Or it is just a pit from the pits of the hell.