If ever the time comes for me to die
Take a white birchwood table out there to the river,
Set it up on the slope of the bank underneath the black alder,
Strew it well with fresh hay, raked up before lunch,
Cover it with a clean length of linen smelling of dew,
Just rolled up and brought in from the meadow,
And there lay me out with my forehead towards the blue sky,
And the sun, and the moon, and the stars –
Towards the blue heavens of my Lithuania,
Without any mourning or weeping or guard of honour,
Without solemn speeches.
Gather a crowd of my jolly old countrymen,
Slaughter a hog in the evening, the day before,
Singe it with straw, and wash it with river water.
Spread it out on a doorboard and carve it,
Laying aside the lungs, the liver,
The hams and the heart, the fat,
For all this will come in handy for the gay vigil.
Then kindle great fires by the river,
Cook big cauldrons of fat cabbage soup,
Stew a lot of potatoes,
Plenty of brisket and meat;
Roast fresh pork on the coals
And sausage with buckwheat.
Make pork jelly,
And distil three caskets of good, strong wine,
Pour it into clay pitchers and let it cool.
Spread tablecloths out on the grass underneath an alder,
And when everything’s ready and set,
Seat the guests.
Invite all my kin – to the farthest,
Call my friends and neighbours.
With babes in their arms
Let my old brides come too.
Have them sit in the meadow
And start serving the guests,
Singers and musicians,
Dancers and their partners,
Children,
The dust-covered passer-by from the field road.
Call together the birds that I loved:
Blackbirds, orioles, finches, cuckoos,
Storks and night-jars, hoopoes and owls;
Let the teal waddle in from the rushes,
And the sparrows gather in whole families.
Let the kingfishers creep from their nests in caves;
Let the flies buzz over the dishes, just like in an old cottage,
And let wasps fly over the honey-smeared plates –
There’ll be plenty, enough for them all.
Only please don’t sulk and sob,
Please be merry.
Let it be a merry affair, my wake.
Truly merry and gay,
Because I, although sometimes sad willy-nilly,
Didn’t like melanholy.
So you, too, enjoy yourselves on this occasion!
Let the wine-cup go round, from hand to hand,
Let it be noisy,
Let songs and laughter fly through the aldergrove;
Let those who are young tickle the girls –
I was fond of it when young and not so young too.
Let the feasting and games go on till white morning,
For I, undoubtedly, would have merited
All this merry-making and joy
After a long, crazy and troubled life.
Let people keep saying until long afterwards:
“My, what fun it was,
That feast at his wake!”
And then, when white morning kindles over the aldergrove,
Let them stumble and straggle away
To work, to rest, to sleep – whatever they will.
Leave me there on the sloping bank of the river,
Under the black, wide-spreading alders.
Ah, how nice it will be for me to remain alone
On the banks of my river!
How the water will ripple,
What songs will come from the orioles!
What music they’ll make, those blackbirds, hoopoes and jays!
How gaily will chirrup the sparrows, my close friends,
How sweet will the hay smell – the trefoil, the sedge,
Wormwood, heather and caraway!
How lovely it will be for me,
How jolly to rest
After such a long, troubled, crazy life!
(Albinas Zukauskas)
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Based on Topics: Life Poems, Sadness Poems, Time Poems, Friendship Poems, Birds Poems, Morning Poems, Water Poems, Work & Career Poems, Children Poems, Wine Poems, Dancing PoemsBased on Keywords: singe, caskets, storks, undoubtedly, wide-spreading, finches, sulk, buckwheat, merited, jays, chirrup
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