Poems...

Worn wings and a cloak,
Black, like a raven's feather,
And a greedy executioner of human life.
And everyone knows, it is the fate of all-
To fall under its blade.
Of course, you all know me,
But do not be afraid and do not cry in vain,
When your time comes, friends.
Although my image is cruel and hateful to you,
You, mortal friend, judge for yourself
About the importance, sometimes the need for me.
Perhaps I will be with you
In that very joyful moment,
Perhaps with sadness and longing,
As you appear in the world.
And maybe I will suddenly appear to you
In those days,
That will be for you
Full of fatherly tenderness, care, and affection.
And some believe,
That I
Will come to him in his prime.
But do not rush to entrust me with your fate!
People have superstitions,
That I approach more boldly
In that mature time,
When it becomes unbearable for them to live.
But more often I meet
Brave warriors and gray-haired old men,
And, supporting them by the hand,
I escort them on their last journey.
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