for my niece Poupak Bayrami who loves this piece

The psalms of the dead sailor

I found a dead sailor in my garden

last night

he seemed quite happy he was dead:  with no resurrection at sight

Are you dead?

It was getting cold and dark

I helped him in

and offered him some coffee and cigar

he said he wasn’t allowed to drink or smoke

it was bad for his cholesterol

Are you dead?

How do you feel?

Nothing, I can’t feel nothing…don’t you see, I am dead?

Are you real?

As death itself!

I sailed with Gaules and Britons  years before I was born

With our cannon balls and a bit of hatred

We wiped out the enemy’s cavalry squadron

at the Hispanic shores of their territory

The fourth summer we stayed in Bohemia

I married to the sweet lady Domitia

She poisoned me in the garden of lust

That’s how you died then?

No, I was born dead

There was no resurrection at sight

I grew bored and went after sorting out irrelevant things

We set foot on the inland on the 27^th day of the month of rains.

Will you be around, when I am born?

There is no resurrection at hand.

He carried a bow and arrow.

“To shoot birds!” he said

“In case they want to poke me in the eye…”

Are you dead?

Yes I just began to live dead

Then we heard the cocks crow

The sailor folded his bow and arrow

neatly put them in his pocket

He thanked me for hospitality and said: “I’ll be back tomorrow.

I could have offered you some facts, but it is too late now

 you know.

All that we love and admire are to be confined

like men with no name or fame, in oblivion.”

Is there a resurrection at hand?

Will you be around when I am born?

All questions will be answered in due time…