Joris Iven |
THE TESTAMENT OF ANSELMUS ADORNES
Never had I expected my grave to be in Linlithgow, Scotland. I have not perished in my money, but in my blood. Marguerite, my earthly body remains here, though I send you my heart. I cannot be closer to you than in the church I built for us. My God, how hard it is to part from flax and linen. When I am laid out, swathe me then in a winding sheet of at least fifty yards. Cover me with sheets of white and grey and black. Divide what I had when I am in my coffin. Give everything to Franciscans, Carmelites, Augustines, Dominicans. May they pray for me, for otherwise my soul will not find rest. Marguerite, I have lived in vain. May God forgive me that I my sole concern was with was temporal. I have wasted my time in taverns. Deck tables with a hundred portions of meat and drink. Divide them amongst women, prisoners, the insane and the poor. May they also pray for me. My soul will have rest. Marguerite, I give away all I am able. We have amassed too much. Even when we mated, we thought in terms of gain. May God have mercy on us. I am so far from you. I have, my love, not even kissed you.
· Essays · Toneel |