В классе читала сегодня вот это. Я делаю музыкальный модуль, и Джек решил в этот раз начать с Баха. Прелюдия к концерту для виолончели номер 1. Я редко пишу вот такую поэзию, но здесь прям оно само. Музыка же.
I thought I could
I thought I was a violin. A blind singer, a lone bird, a pool of special chords, a nest of rhymes and rhythms.
I remember days.
There are still days,
when it goes like this.
I remember.
A melody of sea and trees. I hit the strings, and my body sings, and the chords float, and the stars sparkle!
Light! Dark! Sad, weird and funny!
I thought I was a violin.
I thought was. You know, I really thought.
Turns out I'm not.
I'm a rusty old pipe that wails, and coughs, and screeches, and sheds metal crust, as I try to sing. I pick a note, I blow the horn, I wait, I listen, I hope, I want. The tune will come to me, it always does! It should! It must! It will! I know! It will. It must!
I hit the strings.
No
sound.
I try again!
I try again!
I try again!
I try, I try, I try, I try!
I try! I fail! I fail! I fear! I fail!
I fall.
I thought I was a violin.
I thought I was a violin.
I thought was. You know, I really thought.
Turns out I'm not.
#StarpunkWriting
#поэзия
7
4
3
