There is a beautiful story behind this poem. In 1967 Halina Poświatowska, Polish poet, wrote it to her late husband who died because of cardiac defect in 1956. She wrote this one when it was found that her cardiac defect is no longer curable.
When I die, my love,
when I part with the sun
and I become a sad, oblong object.
Will you cuddle me then,
embrace me with your arms
and set right what cruel fates has broken?
I often think of you,
I write often to you,
silly letters with love therein,
silly letters with a smile inside.
Then, I hide them in a stove
the flame leaps between the words,
until calmly drifting asleep among the ashes.
Gazing upon the flame, my love,
I wonder what will happen
with my love-filled heart.
But you don’t let me die in this world
that is dark, that is dark and cold.
Translation taken from Tekstowo.pl