the dead are not really dead.
Therefore, they resolve to live
as though they were not alive:
So softly the minor thirds,
so tenderly the major sevenths,
white gospel the elderly virgins
keep treading like chastity
until Franz Liszt, ravager
and destroyer of pianos,
critiques with a thunderstorm:
Remind us there is something
to be dead about. Play like
you are alive, even if it is not true.
Nincsenek megjegyzések:
Megjegyzés küldése