He dodges in and out of night
to dance the Tarantella.
And when the dance begins to slow
he looks for Lillabella.
He ‘spies her in a shady glade,
her arms around another
In that stark moment threats are made
to kill poor Lillabella.
He stabs the lovers, three times – more.
Their blood mingles together.
The Harlequin reveals himself
“You queen whore, Lillabella!”
He cries out when he sees her face
for this girl is no other
than his own sister, full of grace,
unlike dour Lillabella.
He launches forth to stem the flow
but she is gone forever.
Comes from behind them, gruff and low
“I’m not ‘your’ Lillabella.”
He swallows deep, her rancid breath.
The spider’s Tarantella.
She dances him straight to his death.
She’s no more Lillabella...
than Il Diavolo himself.
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