of Rainer Maria Rilke's "The Last Evening"
And night and distant rumbling; now the army's
carrier-train was moving out, to war.
He looked up from the harpsichord, and as
he went on playing, he looked across at her
almost as one might gaze into a mirror:
so deeply was her every feature filled
with his young features, which bore his pain and were
more beautiful and seductive with each sound.
Then, suddenly, the image broke apart.
She stood, as though distracted, near the window
and felt the violent drum-beats of her heart.
His playing stopped. From outside, a fresh wind blew.
And strangely alien on the mirror-table
stood the black shako with its ivory skull.
My Improv':
And night and silent vows; now the test lies
face-up, keeping time at its own pace. We pace
all four corners of the room, and my hands grow
more aware of themselves, grow reckless, wringing
over, over one another. I'd cup the side of your face
or take hold an arm, but surely you'd yell, recognize
my commitment to combust us both if there's a pink line.
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