Final poem of 'Death is a part of my name' by Morten Søndergaard

The stonecutter in Pietrasanta

You’re the only one I was lacking today

he laughs.

He means it kindly

but he’s

busy, for there are a lot

to be written today.

I don’t come to have a birth date

or a death date written

and a name

but to have Unknow yourself

or

Nothing is enough

written in marble.

That kind of statement.

If you’re happy

everyone’s happy

he says with a laugh

and cuts the stone.

He is the one who has written

nearly all the dates and names

to be found on the gravestones

in Pietrasanta.

When will I die?

When will I live?

I ask.

I don’t think about that

he replies.

It’s my work.

From time to time I

work out their age

perhaps it’s someone I know

but if you’re satisfied

everyone’s satisfied.

He just writes.

His machines shriek

and he drills his way through the rock.

He cuts his way down to the living and the dead.

The living

want the upper hand over death.

The dead

will remain where they are.

Their body will remain

lying in the heaven

beneath us.

If you’re satisfied, everyone’s satisfied.

I woke up this morning

and really wasn’t able to

recall the night’s dreams.

That’s how it is with

death.

I will really not be able

to remember a thing about life

and I will be the only one

lacking that day.