The Clown's Monologue

I am a clown: silly, simple clown. People do laugh at me: I often wonder why. They call me 'fool' when I am being honest, And tell me to shut up when I speak the truth. My life is harsh, and every day I struggle: I struggle to survive; I struggle to break through. And yet I do not scold my fortune. I do not growl, and I grumble not. I entertain, but rarely entertained, And smile when I do not feel like smiling. My age is old. My pleasures are too few. My youthful memories grow faint and disappear. I sleep where the she-night finds me, And wake where the he-morning scares her away. He slowly comes, dignified and noble. She slowly leaves, flirtatious and lonesome. The morrow comes, bringing its timid sounds. A cock is out there, cockily cocking – rogue. He wakes me up, pretending not to notice. The morning sleep is a misdeed to him. I open eyes: the sky is still above me, And then get up, stretching my legs and arms. I manly yawn: I do not yawn like ladies. Finally ready to walk; to live; to be. Today is Sunday – glorious Sunday – The best day to earn, to gain, and to receive. When one has almost nothing, walking is always lovely. Two steps at a time: no need to rush. I enter a plaza: the town's belly-button. A sea of things I see, yet few can buy. Bread, spinning famished heads around, Sweets, spirits there – anything you want. Here I am, dancing on a wooden scaffold, And here, adults, watching, children, laughing mad. They throw me coins: they know that I need them. They know and love my tricks; I love them too. A clown is a godsend for every party. I dance, and jump, and somersault myself. People are on cloud nine; in seventh heaven. I win again: the crowd is all mine. Sunset; sundown; evenfall is here. The weary people have had enough. Alas, the daily play is over now; But life's play is still going on. I find me a lowly-lowly tavern: Buy meal and drink. What else a clown needs? All my life, I walk round and round. I have no home to go; no family to see. A b*tch is nearby, hungrily staring. She wants to get much more than I can give. I finish meal, and throw her leftovers: She swallows them before she reaches them. I suck the friendly bottle dry and hollow. It makes me warm, gently befuddling me. In daytime, I may be a clown; When drunk at night, I am a king of life.