On the Pavement He Lay

Died without issue,
He had nothing to issue.
On the pavement he lay,
The dust and rubbish beside lay.
Nobody around cared for him,
Days and nights were same for him.
Flies uncountable sat on the body,
But the soul retired from the body.
The dead seemed still to moan,
Nobody was there to listen to the moan.
His heart might have been love's mountain,
No mountaineer had climbed the mountain.

Died without a tear,
No soul was there to shed a tear.
Souls kind-hearted donated wealth,
What would the dead do with the wealth?
Foul smell pierced the air,
Polluted the fresh air.
Left no option but to touch the body,
Like anything the fire swallowed the body.
The dead seemed still to moan,
But there was nobody to listen to the moan.
His heart might have been love's mountain,
Yet no mountaineer had climbed the mountain.