Call the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one,
Get the local cigar maker to make ice cream for the wake. Hand-making ice cream takes strength, and rolling cigars takes delicacy. Perhaps the “big cigars” here, rolled up in their papers, are meant to suggest the image of shrouded corpses? They are also a Freudian emblem of masculinity and of sexuality, which is a subtext that animates this half of the poem.
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