Madam, for what reason, this atrocity?
Madam, for what reason, this atrocity?
These captives, what they need, enchained in lead,
are names, names recorded in tranquility,
more of your benevolent restraint, instead
of your exasperation, of your spite,
who serve to you your evening wine and bread.
From above, I hear cries of those without delight,
of souls without hope, imagination –
a clean spirit, quickly dying. Dead from fright?
One who in life was black, now faded phantom white.
