fornication and love
To play
on a lousy
neglected
and misused instrument
is like
going to bed with someone
you do not love
neither
the piano nor yourself
feel
anything at all except the urge
to get
it over with quickly
You shut
your eyes and think of
Steinway
& Son
or
Hornung & Møller
you’re
seized with self-pity
and pity
for the poor wretch
and the
music sounds accordingly:
rambling
scrambling
shambling
until
you suddenly find a sound
a
humming strength
a 10th
of former days
that has
miraculously survived all infamy
and rape
an
upright melancholy
like a
partially burnt field of stubble
You open
your eyes
stare
with unaccustomed tenderness
at the worm-eaten
yellow keys
everything
is closer now
imprisoned
and forgotten notes
are set free
How
wonderful it can be to be alive
To hell
with Steinway & Møller
Now it’s
just the two of us
for this
short eternity!
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