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When I'm already dying, in deep silence,
I would like fire to be my last world.
May I be cremated with song, with love and faith,
and my ashes, in flowers, be reborn again.
A breath of life in the eternal air,
Where rivers of dreams flow serene.
From the dust that I was, may shades of gold spring forth,
And in each fiery petal, memory blooms.
The flowers that embrace the light of dawn,
Shall be fragrances of my weeping soul.
And when they are given to beautiful women,
each rose, a whisper of my sweetest desires.