There exploded a riot to conquer power in Florence,
murders and treacheries were devouring "the establishment".
A senseless internecine warfare
was crawling in the streets;
families opposed in the council,
blood start to cover the city.
Swords and knives in the church
to subvert the authority; ambushes and pitfalls
to gain the richness of seigneury.
But when they caught the betrayers
and showed no mercy for them,
from the window of courthouse
deceivers were hanging in infamy.
Despite your thoughts and beliefs you were sitting in the square
with the pencil in your hand, ready to paint the deaths.
Focused and concentrated
to catch all the details,
careless of the tragedy
you were just seeing a moment
to freeze in the memory,
to transfer in a painting.
Not for historical purpose,
just for money and fame.
You were disgusted by violence,
so in love with life and creatures;
you were completely extraneous to that clash.
