Anthology of wounds - Arct

Anthology of Woundsme, while my soul was light and light and light. In myheart I had got my saint some minutes before my mouthwith broken teeth in the prisons, was closed forever. Thelong line of clerics with purple paramente, came nearthe coffin for the last time. The lid was covered and tightenedwith nails. I disappeared and I didn’t see any moremyself. At the end I was really dead. Four men pushedup the coffin and went straight ahead, followed bypeople, to the opened trough through the commontombs of Rremajt. I was angry. Have I had not deservedto be buried in the cathedral, near the other preachers,and with the prime cardinal?-I said to myself. Then Ilaugh at this thought. It was not important where I wasgoing to rest. Maybe I must be more content to sleep thelong and last sleep somewhere near Doctor Shiroka. Hewould help me to get up even though any importantbone missed me.I heard the noise of soil that fall over died person onthe face. The spades moved quickly while closed meforever in that trough, the live persons thought of theworks they had, where the gluttony for life waited.At the end on my tomb there were done a soil moundand was put a simple wood cross where was written: Inthis place rests Dom Simon Jubani”Does he rest? No sir, this is a great mistake. The restis far away. I felt that I was flying on the clouds thatlooked as the white sheep wool. I don’t know how did Iremind this word, but I had memorized some time agofrom a school anthology. Maybe Luigj Gurakuqi wroteit. I will meet him in Paradise – I thought happy. It wasthe same as flying with an airplane. At the end I arrived.It was a big gate that shined ,through the clouds. But it133