Softly winging, more silent then tears,As if a bat out hunting for prey

Insects, yes, as if man were insects,Or fruit, whether new, ripe, or old

Oh Death, your dark wings block out all pain.

All sorrow dissipates when you land.

Cold, no not cold, Only warmth, soil and sky.

Above the sky, but yet below as well.

All beings, small, weak, And all beings large and powerful, They succumb to you.

In you, oh merciful Death,I am united with those I love.

I need not fear, for you, oh happy, beloved Death,Will someday send me to my maker, and to my brethren.

All are one under you.

No man is better than any other, All is one, even the grass below and the trees above.

They are all amalgamated when their muted conclusion comes.