Posted by: Peadar Ban | November 29, 2009

Feierlich

This mad man Schumann has me by the throat
And he doesn’t seem to want to let me go.

I know as much about music as a horse
knows about mathematics, probably less
since some horses count, others dance
like the one I saw on “Your Show of Shows”
one Sunday night fifty or more years ago.

But, I feel Schumann’s thumb on my carotid pulse,
His long fingers meeting at the back of my neck;
Long enough to span two octaves they said.
This is no simple caress!

He whispers, “Play this!”
And presses a shivering chord down my neck.
But, I can only listen.
“Listen then,” he says, “And I will be neither
Mad nor dead.”

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