Death might appear to be the issue of life,
Since in every ten alive, three are busy being born
While another three are busy dying.
Should another three out of ten continue breeding death?
Because of the sheer madness to multiply.
But there is one out of ten, they say, so sure of life
That the tiger and the wild boar stay clear of their inland way.
Weapons turn from them on the battle field,
No bull horn could tell where to gore such a person,
No tiger claw could find a place to tear,
No weapon where to enter in.
And why is this?
Because this person has no death to die.