IN PUTIM OSSUARY

From the Czech of Antonín Klášterský (1866-1938)

Come, let's stroll the field,

the day’s so bright,

to Putim Cemetery

and its ossuary.

Gaping skulls stacked there,

ages old, awake.

Give them hell, we shouted!

Mon Dieu! cried the French.

Over many years peasants

dug up a hundred skulls,

and here again one, and another,

as the plough turns up the earth.

Now so many here grinning,

cared for, gleaming in the dark,

empty sockets staring

at you all at once

You say, memento mori

for the salvation of sinners

Remember here, how quickly life

fades and disappears;

and that only a short candle.

The silver candlestick remains.

The sinner regrets,

contrite in his heart.

Perhaps, however, a different

conclusion, Monsignor.

When I depart, let everything

around me be lit up;

I want to sing and kiss,

gurgling blood with gusto,

I raise a cup full of wine

to toast the beauty of life.