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There exploded a riot to conquer power in Florence,

murders and treacheries were devouring "the establishment".

A senseless internecine warfare

was crawling in the streets;

families opposed in the council,

blood start to cover the city.

Swords and knives in the church

to subvert the authority; ambushes and pitfalls

to gain the richness of seigneury.

But when they caught the betrayers

and showed no mercy for them,

from the window of courthouse

deceivers were hanging in infamy.

Despite your thoughts and beliefs you were sitting in the square

with the pencil in your hand, ready to paint the deaths.

Focused and concentrated

to catch all the details,

careless of the tragedy

you were just seeing a moment

to freeze in the memory,

to transfer in a painting.

Not for historical purpose,

just for money and fame.

You were disgusted by violence,

so in love with life and creatures;

you were completely extraneous to that clash.