The dying

       I think that when I’ll die

       No one will remember me

       I know nobody will cry

       But want my things only.

      My departure when will be

      I don’t know where I’ll go

      Maybe to heaven, I think so

      I did well to the people who like me

       I’ll leave all my things

       All which I got in my life

       My house, my books and feelings

        

       I’d like to be always very well

      With my son, grandsons my wife

      But any ill, can finish Rafael.