When i am yet of this world
understand me as i ought to be
believe in me as i should be,
and when i become of the afterlife,
bury me in satin my friend,
do not burn me from your thoughts,
as i yet wish to live from the underground,
as this is all i would have lived for.
And if you do burn me,
let my ashes fly with the easterly winds,
so that i may yet live again,
wander aimlessly over the sands of grain...
and feel the scents of homely joy,
like almighty's beloved toy.