death poem

backward, turn backward
their beautiful hair
the body may confine
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
when i go back to earth
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
with her hair flaying wildly
but alas, just dreams
who will be naming the wind
her face is fair and smooth and fine
my mother taught me that every night
melancholy days have come
she knows a cheap release