written by: Anahit Arustamyan
Hello, clown girl! What is sketched on your painted face?
There's some air in the balloon which is in your hand.
No, your destiny won't be a script but a wrinkle on your forehead.
King Lear cried but his crown didn't help.
The air patting the globe hasn't changed its shape.
Do laugh, clown girl, as a comedy may be a gone page!
Do cry, clown girl, as a tragedy can scratch its old stage!
O, this round stage! It still keeps your mystic dance.
Talk to the stage as quickly as you can!
Your time is limited as the air in the balloon in your hand.