Unexpected — suddenly — as if from nowhere they appear
The monks are wearing fire-coloured gowns
Their faces, friendly but determined, hidden behind lacquered masks
Painted black and white, they're having the shape of over-dimensional skulls
Quickly and nimbly they are moving forward, hopping dextrously
Throwing their legs like ageless jesters so high up into the air
Each of them is armed with a short, an even piece of wood
Remarkably resembling ancient worn-out washing-boards
Polished by the years of use, they brandish them like swords or sticks
Ready to strike ritually — this is the Day Of The remaining Dead
On this day we celebrate the expulsion or rebuke of the spirits
Which have unintendedly been dragged along
Some of these ghosts have been forgotten
Some have simply been ignored
These remnants with a growing hunger
Must be exorcised, shall be removed
This ritual always commences without warning, suddenly
Therefore it cannot be assigned to a certain date or time
It rather tends to inevitably follow a chain of events
A special spiritual feature inherent in everyone of them
Out of the sphere of influence, of 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 so hard between the shoulder-blades
As everyone here is dragging fidget, invisible «appendages»
As if by chance, not expressly invited, we've assembled here today
Vehemently we are being hit and 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…
On this day we celebrate the expulsion or rebuke
Of the spirits which have unintendedly been dragged along
Some of these ghosts have been forgotten
Some have simply been ignored
These remnants with a growing hunger
Must be exorcised, shall be removed
(4х)