There is a place in Hell called Malebolge
With ten pockets full of souls
Each spaced by ten concentric moats
New tortures and new woes
The crowds pace in opposite ways
Prodded forward by brute force
A tortured spirit tries to hide his face
I have seen this fellow before
Pouch 2
I am not the only Bolognese
As Hell would see fit
You would be amazed
This place is covered in shit
Here in Hell I have found
My flattery helps not a bit
This whore lying on the ground
Look how she is covered in shit
“Is my favor with you great?”
“It is enormous”
New Pain I found
For those submerged for years
Underneath the ground
In a canyon watered by tears
With faces so grotesque
Truly I wept
Pity lives when it is dead
Now raise your head
(Chorus)
Loom spindle thimble
For telling fortunes
Potions incantations
Magic predictions
(Manto)
Before I died
Mantua was my home
Where my bones lie
You built a city on my bones
(Chorus)