Si La Muerte Pisa Mi Huerto

If death steps on my orchard, who will sign that I died of natural death? Who will announce it in my town? Who will put a black ribbon on the slightly open gate? Who will be that good friend who will die with me, even if just a little bit? Who will say a Hail Mary and 'the king is dead, long live the king'... thinking to themselves? Who will take care of my dog? Who will pay for my burial and a metal cross? Which of all my loves will buy the flowers for my funeral? Who will empty my pockets? Who will settle my debts? Who will put an end to my diary when the last leaf falls on my calendar? Who will speak to me amidst sobs? Who will kiss my eyes to give them light? Who will pray to my memory, may God have it in His Glory, and will toast to my health? And who will make bread from my wheat? Who will wear my coat next December? And who will be the new owner of my house and my dreams and my wicker armchair? Who will open my drawers? Who will read my songs with morbid pleasure? Who will lie in my bed, wear my pajamas, and keep my wife, and bring me a chrysanthemum on the first of November? Who will put an end to my diary when the last leaf falls on my calendar?