This is my last will and testament
that I write with a foot out the door,
that I write with a foot inside the door
of this world and whatever comes next.
I will now split my wealth,
I will now split my inheritance
in six equal parts,
in the manner here described.
One sixth for the bishop
so he can expand his church,
though in truth I don’t know why
if it almost never fills.
Other sixth for the quack
so he can expand his knowledge,
and thus when his patients die
he doesn’t get guilt pangs.
Another sixth for the bachelorettes
for perfumes and silks,
and a shrine to St. Anthony
with room for more candles.
Another sixth for the City Hall
so they can invest in public works,
even though the mayor will do
whatever he feels like doing.
Another sixth to my landlady
to which I owed a thousand debts,
so that maybe she’ll finally
get to fixing those leaks.
And lastly, the other sixth
I leave for my epitaph
where one can read
with neat and clear letters:
Here lie the bones,
for he was but bones when he lived,
of a man whom they even couldn´t
study his anatomy.
Here lie the remains
of a defiant politic
that didn’t turn the other cheek,
though he was hit in both nonetheless.
Of one who harbored no jealousy,
of one who had no prejudice
and thus Death reached him
with a perfectly sound mind.
Of one who didn’t bathe in wine
his stomach and his misfortunes,
and in his eighty years
never saw democracy.