I cannot help it when the flute begins to sing
I cannot resist when the piano sparkles her tone
I am deeply enchanted by the choir bells that ring
With the violin’s solemn notes, I am charmed to the bone!
Am I called to sing with them? Or beckoned to silence?
Am I told to stand still awestruck? Or moved to dance?
Tis difficult when at the same time, you hear joy and violence
Whether to glide with the ethereal notes, or with the powerful ones to prance!
But my brain! It has been intoxicated by the maestro’s concoction!
And my soul! She is lovesick with the hypnotic voice of horn!
Is it a poison or an antidote? Do I have an option?
With myriads of feelings, I know not; my very being is happily torn!
I don’t even try; when I hear the band, I sing right on key
I am like a long-lost child called, and I still recognize my mother’s voice
I give little effort; when I feel the rhythm, my limbs move lithe and free
I am like a lone wanderer summoned, and at my father’s call I rejoice
Confusing, yes, but I wouldn’t trade it for solid forms
Circling and winding, indeed, but I wouldn’t settle for anything straighter
The colors of music are vast, but like a chameleon I conform
And I run with the herd of song, and live a life ever brighter!
Poetry