And when I'm gone, please, do burn my body
And scatter the ashes in the air.
Do not prepare a lot ­ for my burial
My graveyard is ­ everywhere!

Do scatter some ashes over Auschwitz's ovens
In Katyn Forest ­ leave few little bits.
Over Warsaw Ghetto, nameless soldiers graves
And in Babia Gora ­ deadly pits.

In Sahara's Desert, in Siberia's snows,
Where time covered my brothers' mortal gashes
Where innocent victims ­ in unmarked graves,
Please, scatter some ­ of my ashes!

Maybe from the ashes ­ new life will begin
And love, like flowers, will start blooming.
And brother, will forgive, his own brother's sins
And birds ­not cannons ­ will start humming!

(Houston, 2.23.1996)