Further to my series of poems inspired by symphonic masterpieces, which you can read here, here, and here, here is a little verse I improvised in my head during this morning's commute, inspired by a performance of the musical work named in the title, which I had in the car's CD player. I recommend Charles Dutoit's recording with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra.
Nor sob nor chuckle, but akin to both,
It beats a ceaseless, spiritless tattoo:
Whether machine or madman, I am loath
To name what I would liken it unto;
Perhaps some strigilept, his lifeblood drained,
So muttering shambles, damned and yet unpained.