Further Instructions

 Come, my songs, let us express our baser passions.

Let us express our envy for the man with a steady job and no worry about the future.
 
You are very idle, my songs, 
I fear you will come to a bad end.
 
You stand about the streets, You loiter at the corners and bus-stops,
You do next to nothing at all.
 

You do not even express our inner nobilitys, 
You will come to a very bad end.


And I? I have gone half-cracked.
 
I have talked to you so much that I almost see you about me, 
Insolent little beasts! Shameless! Devoid of clothing!

But you, newest song of the lot, 
You are not old enough to have done much mischief.
 
I will get you a green coat out of China
With dragons worked upon it.
 
I will get you the scarlet silk trousers
From the statue of the infant Christ at Santa Maria Novella; 
Lest they say we are lacking in taste, 
Or that there is no caste in this family.

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