Thursday 3 March 2016

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
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
I will really not be able
to remember a thing about life
and I will be the only one
lacking that day.

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