Death,
I implore you,
I beseech you,
Hone your claws no more
Tarry,
Retreat!

In the abundance of blossoming,
You clear promising fields,
If not you,
You send your kith and kin
Why?
Aren’t you afraid of an empty future?

Reaping immediately after sowing,
Swiftly sweeping the fields empty,
Why such greed?
Aren’t you content?
Daily, hourly, we feed thy bowels
We quench thy thirst,
But, you come back for more
Why?

Death,
Arrest thy hunger
Incarcerate your thirst,
We are tired of mounds,
Tarry a while,
Come and harvest
When the crops have dried,
Harvest hurriedly,
Fields that have had their share.

But touch not,
The lush vegetation,
Hold your storms at bay,
Arrest your cousins- pestilence.
For they too,
Have plundered our fields.
Death, listen to me
I implore you.