Hanoch Levin

And the man said, what has the dead man left if not to be philosophical, I’ve plenty of time here at my disposal to solve the deep meaning of it all. The man peeked in himself and knew in this life there is no riddle.

And one more desire the dead man had left to be taken to his father’s bosom and hide his crumbling face and weep with his arms round the neck of his progenitor that’s rotting. And the laughing gold skull of his father refrained: I too had a father and I too yearned.

Shmerl sells to Berl, and Berl buys from Getzl. And inside of them all like a hole inside the bagel is death, also known as Detzl. And the dead man lay in the cart pale with shame and helplessness, and diapered like an infant in his diapers without trousers and without underpants. And his lips taut in a twist of disgrace: I can no longer satisfy a woman.

And the dead man was sick with sorrow and his flesh wasted away and his pale lips ate back from his mouth and his teeth were bared in a base grin. And the man tore from his face the grin and there underneath it rose a chortling.