This summer Hamlets are ripe and many
All across our states
Who both
Do and do not
Exist
As their to-be’s
And not-to-be’s
Resound
All over the place
But wherever you place the mousetrap
Either into the Ottoman court
Or into his summer Brozidence
This state of us being
Between being and not being
Can never be
Brought to an end
Because Fortinbras
Never sets foot in here
Only a merchant once in a while selling pepper,
Vinegar, bandoliers and powdered fear
Or a rain-catching bottles’ manufacturer
The maker of šišinje kišinje
But Fortinbras never
Perhaps a forensic expert here and there