Epilogue

Tunes of infants joy the airs
a song of ages mocking of the death
Dance in circles pass the galloping grave
Swirl pass putrefied corruption of no ends

The mad femme trembles her once pure hand
to the dead man who troubled all of her rights
Rocking a stolen child, she smiles in madness
in the sense of lost senses, in the sense of lost ages
She laughs out of Spain, France, and earth
Holding the filth of the man who raped her innocent fate

Out of the scene, Goya paints
a portrait of endured suffering and blame
Mad drawings of charcoal disgrace
His ears follow no tune of the kids
but his hands capture the fatal scene

A crazy femme, a repugnant men
kids dancing in bliss the dead of the scars
Goya in ink paints deaf end of the flies

Flies of deceased and corrupted beings
a single shout they bring with the disease
"Epilogue" they plead.