First Night of Samonios

Between stalks of grass
Phosphorescent green
In a dark clearing
With air cold as glass

Hear the sound of bones
Clicking with the chill
Starting a quiet drill
Like ossicle stones

You must
Beware
Of the
Fact that
Appearance is not always truth my friend

Behind the cold graves
Shady shapes in brown
Hoods are kneeling down
With lamenting waves

See the parias’ tears
Falling for cities
Whose hypocrisies
Have burnt all their peers

You must
Beware
Of the
Fact that
Mourning witches are not monsters my friend

J.-S. Desnanot

Illustration: Jakob von Wil, Totentanz (detail)