The Abbot's Dream
Last night I dreamed that, devastated by illness,
They buried me beside a black man.
Not being able to stand this frightful neighbor
Since I am a corpse of quality, I ordered him:
"Get out of here, scoundrel! Go rot away from me,
It's not your right to rest near me."
"Scoundrel," said he, in an arrogant tone:
"Go seek your kind elsewhere,
Here all are equal, I no longer owe you a thing,
I lay in my rot like you in yours.
Yet, without thinking about the devouring worms
As you did in church, you insult me in repulsive terms."
The colonel's dream is the same except for the two last lines, which are as follows:
By your leave, here a simple Negro is worth
A brilliant colonel of the French brigade.