The people cheered and said to him,
"Thou art the funniest man on the land,
and the happiest too!"
And to this the comedian laughed.
Victims of the heart,
the highest lords and ladies,
on the darkest nights most morbid,
went to the king of comedians,
and changed their suffering to laughter.
One day, before a most famous medic
a man came with a morbid look.
"I suffer" said he, "an evil as terrible
as my face is pale!"
"I find nothing charming or attractive;
I care not for my name nor for my fate,
I am in a state of dead while living,
and my only passion is death!"
"Doest thou travel and distract?" the doctor asked
"So much I have traveled!"
"Hast thou read books?"
"So much I have read!"
"Doest a woman love thee?"
"So much I am loved"
"Doest thou have a title?"
"I was born into Nobility!"
"Art thou poor perhaps?"
"Rich I am!"
"Praise doest thou desire?"
"Praised so much I am!"
"Doest thou have family to love?"
"Only my sorrows."
"Doest thou travel to the cemeteries?"
"In thine present life, doest thou have acquaintances?"
"Plenty, but I let them not impose their burdens,
for only the dead do I call friends,
And the living my tormentors."
"Thou has left me," said the medic, "Perplexed,
Thine illness... Thou must not lose hope!
Take this advice as a prescription,
Only by watching Angelo can thou be cured!"
"Angelo Indeed! Even the most reluctant and austere from society
eagers to watch his performance.
Everyone who watches him dies of laughter,
He has an amazing artistic grace!"
"And will he make me laugh?"
"Ah! Indeed, I swear it to thee!
Nobody but him,
Farther more...." He stopped when he saw the look on the mans face.
"What troubles thee?"
"You see," Said the ill man, "That won't cure me;
I Am Angelo!... I pray thee change my prescription..."
How many are there?
Weary of life,
Sick of sorrow,
Dying of boredom,
Making laughter like the suicidal comedian,
Without finding in himself a cure.
OH! How many times while laughing we cry.
In the happiness of laughter put their fortune
Because in the creatures that sorrow devours
The soul cries while the face laughs...
And if faith dies, the calm escapes,
If only flowers do our feet tread,
Launching in the face the tempest of the soul;
And the carnaval that is the world, tricks us plenty
Tells us that our lives are short masques.
And here we learn to laugh with sobs,
And also to cry with laughter.