Funeral Service Times August 2017 November 2018 | Page 51

CEMETERIES AROUND THE WORLD 51
tourist attraction, a book with a compilation
of Patras’ poems and photos of his epitaphs
was also released in 2017. Dumitru Pop, has
carried on Patras’ work and has been writing
poems and engraving the epitaphs for over
30 years now. Like Patras before him, Pop is
visited by the villagers when there has been
a death to arrange an epitaph however Pop
alone decides what is written on it, with
the family and friends given no say in the
matter. Despite the family’s significant lack
of input, Pop claims to have never received
a complaint. Pop has said of his work "It's
the real life of a person. If he likes to drink,
you say that; if he likes to work, you say that,
there's no hiding in a small town".
POP AND PATRAS’ WORK
1.
2.
Here I rest/Stefan is my name/As long
as I lived/I liked to drink/When my
wife left me/I drank because I was sad/
Then I drank more/to make me happy/
So, it wasn't so bad/that my wife left
me/Because I got to drink/with my
friends/I drank a lot/and now, I'm still
thirsty/So you who come/to my resting
place/Leave a little wine here.
Underneath this heavy cross /Lies my
mother-in-law poor /Had she lived
three days more /I would be here and
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3.
4.
5.
she would read/You that are passing
by/Try not to wake her up /For if she
comes back home/She’ll bite my head
off/But I will act in the way/That she
will not return/Stay here my dear
Mother-in-law.
As long as I lived/I loved the Party/And
all my life/I tried to help the people.
As I lived in this world/I skinned many
sheep/Good meat I prepared/So you
can eat freely/I offer you good fat
meat/And to have a good appetite/
Ioan Toaderu loved horses, but, he
says from beyond the grave/One more
thing I loved very much/To sit at a table
in a bar/Next to someone else's wife.
Burn in hell, you bloody taxi/That came
from Sibiu/Of all the places in this
country/You had to stop right here/
By my house you hit me so/And sent
me to the death below/And left my
parents full of woe.
PSTRAS’ OWN POEM
Since I was a little boy/I was known as
Stan Ion Patras/Listen to me, fellows/
There are no lies in what I am going to
say/All along my life/I meant no harm
to anyone/But did good as much as I
could/To anyone who asked/Oh, my poor
World/Because It was hard living in it.
NOVEMBER 2018