A hesitant start of romantic
showing of dancing raindrops
and taken over by
beautiful dark somber-laden
notes of the clarinet
of impressionistic character
taking me on a spin
beyond where the words go
where only the birds flutter
in the autumn winds
dancing with Hecuba
stark and demanding sounds
a ballet not unlike
the Disney of yore
elephants in frou-frou
alas suddenly it is scenes
from flight of Nazi-German Jews
somewhere in Poland's forests
screams and thunder of
battalions from the 1812
and back to quiet waves
on a calm sea-board
ending on a drumming roll
shouts of the composer
beating himself up
for doing this kind of
haunting sphere.
(Ernest Chausson, Symphonie 20, Tres Lent)
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