Dream Note N.7 in G minor, Neville Marriner

Woe is the most precious wine of grace,
alas, few has treasured her dark embrace.
Although a flask cannot your skeleton drown,
infinite are the perils of my dreamy crown.

Thus again I sit with my bloody quill,
recording Mendelssohn’s ghostly trill.
O! Dear sir, dazed was I,
at a letter of your earthly demise!

In the melodies of Rodrigo your baton danced,
with Pepe’s strings in a heavenly trance.
In memories I painted that jade green lake,
an artist’s eyes shall live blindly awake.

How strange again, yet again was my retreat,
intellectual sabotages from Mozart’s defeat.
How I would have missed my Sunday fermata,
I sunk in the bosom of the underworld’s deceit.

Again my grandfather has cheated death,
how my proud mind succumbed to its allure.
In peace I’m resurrected by the morning hour,
Savouring the beauty of night’s demeanour.

Published in: on 18/12/2016 at 12:47 PM  Leave a Comment  

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