Today the violin of love,Is tuned, pulled so taut,That the strings of the heartMay voice a river of tremors...
The bow of feeling,To touch lightly, and powerfully,The painful grip of waiting...
A waterfall of free notes,Melancholy and sad,Embraced and entwinedIn trembling muscles of flesh...
You, laid out by feelingOr by a great, thirsty desire,Neither alive, nor dead,Upon the lush greenery,By the rustle of a faded May...
Virtuosic, my notes,Pour like waterfalls along the banks,Golden hair flowing,Searching, where did you vanish, on what paths?Only the breeze through the branches replies...
The notes tremble on the violin,And the bow in my hands,The cold symphony of waiting,Does not feel in harmony with the spring...
The song pours freely today,Without stanzas, without meter, without rhyme,The letters have been waiting for hours,Without you they know neither road nor home...
They scatter, fall out of tune,They run with hair let down across the meadow,You vanished, and your loss steals my melody...
