I Like To Write Poetry

[b]The Secret Sharer[/b]

August was the uncruel month that year.

I remember morning sun glimmering through heat-mists over the Starnberger See

and castle gates opening at first light

to welcome musicians for early rehearsal.

Later, on the green,

leader and follower assembled:

allies in paired counterpoint.

A multitude of subjects crowded in on each other.

“This music crept by me upon the waters”

In the field the trumpets trilled,

chasing the dreams of prismatic sonorities,

while a circle of swans clustered in the lake.

He said, “Cosima, Cosima... ”

[i]inaudible[/i]

I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.

By and by

(the midday sun pursuing ennervated shadows)

Hofbrau beer quenched the thirst of their enthusiasm.


Then king and subject were alone:

“We were born one for another.”

[i]inaudible[/i]

“Yes, majesty, my co-creator.”

Years passed. August followed August.

The end surprised us coming under the Starnberger See.

Fear death by water.