Classic Poem

I, the singer, entered into the house strewn with flowers, where stood upright the emerald drum, where awaiting the Giver of Life the nobles strewed flowers around, the place where the head is bowed for lustration, the house of corrupt odors, where the burning fragrant incense spreads and penetrates, intoxicating our souls in the presence of the Cause of All.
Where shall we obtain the fragrance which intoxicates our souls? We do not yet know the various flowersongs with which we may rejoice the Cause of All, however desirous we are; thou my friend, would that thou bring to my instrument various flowers, that thou shouldst clothe it in brilliant oco flowers, that thou shouldst offer them, and lift thy voice in a new and worthy song to rejoice the Cause of All.
Wherefore should we recall while the soul is in life that our souls must be scattered hither and thither, and that wherever we go we are to be destroyed on earth? Rather let us hide it, turn from it, and listen to some worthy new song; delight thy soul with the pervading fragrance of flowers, as I the singer lift my voice in a new song that I may rejoice the Cause of All.
Come hither, thou my friend, to where stands the drum, decked with flowers, gleaming with brightness, green with the outspread plumes of the quetzal bird, where are looked for and cared for the seats near the Cause of All; leave the place of night and clouds, turn hither with us, lift thy voice in the new song I sing so that I may rejoice the Cause of All, as the dawn approaches in the house of thy heart.
Of what use is it that I frame my sad songs, that I recall to mind the youths, the beloved children, the precious relatives, the dear friends, famous and celebrated as they were on earth? Who now hears their fame, their deeds? Where can they find them? All of us are but mortal, and our home is there in the Hereafter, where there is life without end.