The footprints left by ink on parchment
are traced by quiet fingers, though,
He never blotted a page.
The quill rises, strikes the scroll;
the instrument is a time machine:
the Bard dreams of Rome.
Welcome to the Coliseum!
Our entertainment shall delight your eyes
and sway your senses.
Emerge, spectators! Declare your enthusiasm
in your tens of thousands.
Six acres of land.
From the stands, centurions watch
gladiators circle lions.
The crowd hymns a name.
Little boy, watching this game,
Do you know the measure of a man?
Whatever your path, you must have
death and glory.
All the world's a stage