Ridi
The people come to laugh.
They come to forget themselves,
even for a mere instant.
And in that instant,
nevermore shall they sleep;
they arise and face themselves
unable to turn their heads away
until the last Matryoshka doll
has been unraveled, leaving
a hollow porcelain string
frozen in its place
What soul shall remain untouched?
who will be left to deride the great clown,
when they can only face themselves
without one spark of imminent cachinnation?
Ridi, rid thee of your silent tears,
the greatest clown has come to
alleviate your fears
Rome burns alive,
pick up the harp and the horn
and dance, dance along!
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