When we are to expire, hold my hand tight
Land your sight on me, for I am to listen.
Divulge all the worries, none has the right to
Divest us of past and the firmament recently risen.
New yourself chastely for the meeting with deity,
Comb hair down, forget not to brush your teeth.
Pick up an angel, provided in the sevenmost variety
And wait for acquaintance, with the reincarnation myth.
Now your head has softly fallen, but lips, yet working at smile.
Imaging you walking like that eternity’s rim. Come back!
You can’t see! Open your eyes! Hold my hand tight!
…angels start singing… Oh fulke… Let me now in…