Play your last piece of music
On your violin of gold and silver,
So that violets and roses may blossom
By the side of your tomb
Paint one last picture
Of your face before you sleep
We will adorn it in carving
On that marble slab before thy grave.
Death is silent, even your stringed pieces will be quiet,
Death is formless, even your pretty face will turn to bone,
Death is the best musician,
His beginning is its end.
Death is the finest artist,
Whatever he paints drops dead instantly!