The night pales. Dawn ...
You hear the laughter of more power ...
About the city changes, the horizon
It's a strange orchid to bloom.

There swallows ready to say
The Mass of the morning, the sun barely topping.
Screams, the sound of roosters hill to hill
In an intense joy of living.

Steps away from the ... a figure that fades ...
In every shadow, the Colombina betrays ...
Walk the silence around wanting to talk ...
And the moonligh faint , macerated,
It remembers, pale, dizzy, ragged,
A Pierrot, all white, to sob ...