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!