(To those who are about to die and those who are overwhelmed with the thought of suicide)

To those who are about to die,

Who think life has come to its dead-end aisle,

And all the memory was simply passing by.

Who think all left to do is to cry,

And into the ocean they rather dive.

Who think they could mask the pain with the misty eyes,

And are just too tired to fight.

Who think life was only this way for lack of guide,

And also regret they never sieved any chance to get really high.

Who think all suffering was miserable with hitting ice,

And all ecstasy was gone under the huge jack.

Who think they have been groping their way like a lost kite,

And down in a forgiving shelter they have been craving for to just lie.

To those who are about to die,

What hide in the outlet of dead-end aisle is the gold mine,

And all the memory of life is like twinkling little stars in the night.

What contain in tears is truly the fine wine from a oenophile,

And the infinite ocean is actually a tasty blue pie.

Wha tis unnecessary to do is to shed tears in the quiet,

And just fight for someone you love and something right.

What leads to where you are is your perspicacious eye sight,

And just remember happiness comes when you try.

What suffering and misery fear is the love and friendship you unite,

And with those you don’t need no worry of jack and vice.

To those who are about to die,

A lost kite can always find a haven where it can live a beautiful life.