Ash and Soot
The anacrusis, please, andante maestoso,
six bars, before the chorus comes… Hell, what is wrong
with you, the mighty mage of music, virtuoso,
the treble clefsmith? Why the plain and silly song
a pretty flower girl sings outside the window
on her way home from night dating made you put
aside your magic bow? As holy Aurobindo
once said in such a situation: «Ash and soot,
that’s all what’s left of those who dared see the face
of love»… As well as sounds of music, in your case.
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