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A Dog Obeys his Master's Call

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Tell me, sweet gypsy,

with what eyes should look at you

a one-eyed?

With what ears could

hear your singing

a deaf man?

With what body would sustain you

a cripple?

I know, I see myself

I hear myself, and the screams

calling me a monster.

This king of fools, Esmeralda,

today is a fool for real

thinking of, of you every thing

that has been denied to him.

Tell me why this ill eye

shows itself saner than ever

when it sees other people’s hands

come to know your skin

Andalusian, dark, warm.

Tell me why you did talk to me,

sweet gypsy.

Tell why you did give to me

that illusion,

that brought me to move

lips already dead;

to have beating a heart

rusted like my bells

only lovers I’ve known.

Now, defenceless Esmeralda,

whenever you need it

you will have a friend,

your loyal hunchback,

whom your hands, tenderly

as I’ve never have others,

have touched.

And when I will want to shout,

my beautiful Esmeralda,

don’t feel envious,

but to keep the secrets

of my eternal pain

it will be my friends

iron bells,

whose vault will scream my love

to the whole Paris.

Your ears only

will stay ignorant

to the sound of my love,

my dear Esmeralda.