This cemetery is huge.
It's so special in the fall to see the elderly ladies fastidiously cleaning the graves of their loved ones--they make a day of it.
There is a rich history here (Fanz Kafka is buried here), but it is enough to just walk through and admire the gorgeous statues, and feel the enormous stone weight of the whole cemetery.
The Don Giovanni Hotel has rooms overlooking the cemetery and is a good value for a luxury hotel. Parking rates are reasonable, too.
Here's a poem.
Olsany, a poem to you:
You're a not-so-secret cemetery, aren't you?
Your sobbing is not silent.
I smell the bright yellow
torrent of autumn tears that fall from your trees.
Soft, yellow-gold does nothing to melt the
Crisp, clear air. It is cold and
the wind only makes you cry harder.
I want to know your seasons.
Will you be cold and white and bright?
Or snowy and cloudy and barren?
Are you sometimes hot and green and mysterious?
Or do you bustle with Life under green?
Thank you for the still death of your stone statues.
You sprawl and there are the poor.
Do the people around this neighborhood
know what lies within your protective
arms, sometimes crying, sometimes smothering?
Do they feel your warm stone heart?
Enjoy the pictures that I scanned just for you.
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