RIMA LXXIII

They closed her eyes,
which were still open;
they covered her face
with a white cloth;
while some wept,
and others were silent,
they all passed out
of the sad bedroom.

The light of a candle
burning on the floor
cast the shadow
of the bed on the wall;
and from time to time
within that shadow
the rigid outline
of a body was seen.

Day was breaking,
and with its first light
came countless sounds
of people waking up;
before that contrast
of life and mystery,
of light and darkness,
I thought for a moment:
Dear God, how alone
are those who have died!

They carried her on shoulders
from the house to the church,
where they placed
the coffin in a chapel.
There they surrounded
the pallid remains
with yellow candles
and a black shroud.

When the church bells
stopped ringing,
an old woman
finished praying;
she crossed the wide nave,
the doors creaked,
and the sacred place
was finally deserted.

The regular pendulum
of a clock and some
sputtering candles
could still be heard.
Everything seemed
so solitary and sad,
so dark and deserted…,
and I thought for a moment:
Dear God, how alone
are those who have died!

The steel tongue
of the church bell
was slowly tolling
its sad farewell.
In mourning clothes,
friends and relatives
formed a solemn
funeral cortege.

The pickaxe pried
open the door of
the dark and narrow
burial vault.
They laid her there,
they closed it up,
and with a prayer
the funeral ended.

The pickaxe on his shoulder,
the grave keeper
vanished in the distance,
singing under his breath.

Darkness was falling
and silenced reigned;
lost in the shadows,
I thought for a moment:
Dear God, how alone
are those who have died!

On the long nights
of the cold winter,
when wind makes
the boards creak,
and the heavy rain
beats on the windows,
I sometimes remember
that poor young girl.

There the rain falls
with its eternal sound;
there she is battered
by the cold north wind.
Lying in the hollow
of the damp wall,
perhaps the cold
freezes her bones!…

    …………………………………………………………………………

Does dust turn to dust?
Does the soul fly to heaven?
Without the soul, is there
only dirt and decay?
I do not know; but there is
something I cannot explain,
something I dislike,
although is is necessary:
to leave those who die
so sad and so alone!