Counting the naked pregnant seas that I've crossed,
I see the birth of my absence being felt as a wind;
Thoughts of existing like the sun pricks my heart,
When I be gone, let me become an Icon of reckoning.
Upon the absence of my existence, let me become the air
Of all that breathes and lives in the endless ocean of life,
Build me a mountain upon which fruitful rivers shall flow;
When I be gone, let not the sweet memories of me run dry.
Standing on the hills of many waters that I've treaded,
I perceive an incomplete history without the memories of me;
Thoughts of the earth never having enough of me ticks,
When I be gone, let me be the Guardian of the earth.
On the parting presence of my running breath,
Let my exploits be the reason to embrace living;
Engrave my impacts on the sweat of the helpless,
When I be gone, let me become the Hope of the hopeless.
If peradventure the breath of my existence cease to breathe
And my reason for living be not lived to her expected taste,
Let the future generation live to live the shadow of my life;
When I be gone, plant my name as the historic seed of history.