Parade

What sturdy odd fellows. Several have exploited

your worlds. Without needs, and little concerned with

putting their brilliant minds and their experience of

your consciences to work. What mature men! Dazed eyes

like a summer night, red and black, tri-colored,

steel dotted with golden stars;

deformed features, leaden, made pale, made to burn;

their foolish cries! The cruel walk

of rags! There are some young ones....

O the most violent Paradise of the fanatical grimace!...

Chinese, Hottentots, Bohemians, deniers, hyenas,

Molochs, old demented ones, sinister demons, they

mix popular and maternal tricks

with bestial poses and tenderness. They interpreted

new plays and - nice girl - songs.

Master jugglers, they transform

the place and the people and use

magnetic comedy....

I alone hold the key to this wild parade.