Unexpectedsuddenlyas if from nowhere they appear,
the monks are wearing fire-coloured gowns,
their faces, friendly but determined, are hidden behind lacquered masks,
painted black&white, they're having the shape of over-dimensional skulls
Quickly and nimbly they are moving forward, hopping dextrously,
throwing their legs like ageless jestersso high up into the air
Each of them is armed with a short, an even piece of wood,
remarkably resemblingancient worn-out washing-boards
Polished to strike ritually-this is the DAY OF THE remaining DEAD
On this day we celebrate the expulsion, or rebuke,
of the spirits wich have unintendedly been dragged along
Some of these ghosts have been forgotten, some have simply been ignored,
these remnants with a gowing hungermust be exorcised, must be removed
This ritual alway commences without warning, suddenly,
therefore it cannot be assigned to a certain date of time
It rather tends to inevitably follow a chain of events,
a special spiritual feature inherent in each and everyone of them
Put of the sphere of influenceof the sphere of the days to be
the monks are approaching, spinning on their own axis as they dance and sing
and hitting every person present dard between the shoulder-blades
as everyone here is dragging fidget, invisible"appendages"
As if by change, not expressly invited, we've assembled here today
vehemently we are being hitand driven through the western gates,
out of the monastery in the direction of the setting sun
a necessary purifying ceremony for the (fragile) days to come