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Calumny
is a little breeze
A gentle zephyr
Which subtly, gently
Lightly and sweetly
Commences to whisper
softly, softly,
Here and there.
sotto voce
sibilant.
It goes rambling,
It goes gliding
Into the ears of the people
It penetrates with ease
And their head and their brains
It stuns ands it swells
From the mouth re-emerging
The noise grows in crescendo
Gathers force little by little
Runs its course from place to place
Like the thunder of the tempest
from the depth of the forest
Comes whistling, muttering,
Freezing everyone in horror!
With a crash its force redoubles,
And produces an explosion
Like the outburst of a cannon!
an earthquake, a whirlwind!
which makes the air resound!
And the poor slandered wretch
Vilified, trampled down,
beneath the public lash,
If he is lucky, he he'll soon die!
Beneath the public lash
If he is lucky, he will die!
YES, he will die!