Death do come to me when I am old, weary of reluctant smiles and afraid of being bold; Brush away my flesh as desert wind do to spoors on a dune. Death do come to me when I am ill; out of cure, and feeble of living will. Take away this bed of burden so that they may spare the bill, Death do come to me when I am astray; gaming life, consuming fortunes day by day. Violently erase me, bury me, forget me. Death do come to me whenever I do not come to thee... -- In the House of Remaining Snow, We dance and sing, make merry while the days are long. --

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