W. H. Auden "Funeral blues"

"Stop all the clocks "

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling in the sky the message He is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun.
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

Nek` svi satovi stanu i neka telefoni zaneme,
I psima da ne laju dajte sočnu kost,
Utišajte klavire i uz prigušeno dobovanje bubnja
Iznesite kovčeg,nek ožalošćeni priđu..

Nek avioni tugujući iznad naših glava
Ispišu preko neba poruku `On je Mrtav`.
Stavite crne florove na bele vratove golubova,
Nek saobraćajci svoje bele rukavice zamene crnim.

Bio je moj Sever,moj Jug,moj Istok i Zapad.
Moja radna sedmica i nedeljni odmor,
Moje podne,moja ponoć,moj govor,moja pesma;
Mislih da je ljubav večna..prevarih se.

Zvezde sada nisu poželjne;pogasite ih sve,
Spakujte Mesec,skinite Sunce;
Izlijte okeane i posecite šume:
Jer ništa od toga više nema svrhe...