In the corner, behind the curtains
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Young clown in a wig
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Grim puts sharp strokes
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And he cries himself in anguish.
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She is not there, she caresses with another,
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She is gone, she left with someone else.
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The clown is crying
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Even makeup doesn't fit.
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The circus is making noise, buzzing, laughing,
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The hum rushes from top to bottom.
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And it resounds more powerfully:
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"Redhead, bravo! |
Bravo! |
Bis!.."
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Here under the roof, on the trapeze
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The clown spins the wheel
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And laughs out of inertia,
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He himself thinks about it -
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She is not there, she caresses with another,
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There is no it, the soul hurts,
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The clown famously somersaults,
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But having broken off, it suddenly flies ...
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The circus is making noise, buzzing, laughing,
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The hum rushes from top to bottom.
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And it resounds more powerfully:
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"Redhead, bravo! |
Bravo! |
Bis!.."
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On a simple board, comrades,
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Also in makeup, like him,
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To the stable from the playground
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Silently dragged out.
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The clown is pale, looks around
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Death is hovering over him.
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She is not there, she caresses with another,
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Passionately, sultryly, but with another!..
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The circus is making noise, buzzing, laughing,
|
The hum rushes from top to bottom.
|
And it resounds more powerfully:
|
"Redhead, bravo! |
Bravo! |
Bis!.." |