Jan came this morning <br />—I dreamt of my father <br />he says <br /> <br />he was riding in an oak coffin <br />I walked next to the hearse <br />and father turned to me: <br /> <br />you dressed me nicely <br />and the funeral is very beautiful <br />at this time of year so many flowers <br />it must have cost a lot <br /> <br />don’t worry about it father <br />—I say—let people see <br />we loved you <br />that we spared nothing <br /> <br /> six men in black livery <br /> walk nicely at our sides <br /> <br />father thought for a while <br />and said—the key to the desk <br />is in the silver inkwell <br />there is still some money <br />in the second drawer on the left <br /> <br />with this money—I say— <br />we will buy you a gravestone <br />a large one of black marble <br /> <br />it isn’t necessary—says father— <br />better give it to the poor <br /> <br /> six men in black livery <br /> walk nicely at our sides <br /> they carry burning lanterns <br /> <br />again he seemed to be thinking <br />—take care of the flowers in the garden <br />cover them for the winter <br />I don’t want them to be wasted <br /> <br />you are the oldest—he says— <br />from a little felt bag behind the painting <br />take out the cuff links with real pearls <br />let them bring you luck <br />my mother gave them to me <br />when I finished high school <br />then he didn’t say anything <br />he must have entered a deeper sleep <br /> <br />this is how our dead <br />look after us <br />they warn us through dreams <br />bring back lost money <br />hunt for jobs <br />whisper the numbers of lottery tickets <br />or when they can’t do this <br />knock with their fingers on the windows <br /> <br />and out of gratitude <br />we imagine immortality for them <br />snug as the burrow of a mouse<br /><br />Zbigniew Herbert<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/what-our-dead-do/
