Anyway, the fugue has not been cooperating lately. And after a minor meltdown last night, I had a poetic spark.
Fugue
Enclosed in the foreign sound
Of trills and intertwining fingers
Flighty lover with three songs
Untrue up to her grand finale
One day of sweet memory
Then unfaithful, gone til morning
Bring her flowers, perfected skill
Or say goodbye in a show of errors
The romance swept her off
Entranced by passionate arithmetic
She'll remain in her fickle fugue
Ironically, this morning in my Modern Lit class we began class by talking about the fugue. My prof showed us a youtube video of a Bach fugue. Then she read us a poem in its original language - German - called "Death Fugue" by Paul Celan. It's a beautiful and haunting poem about the Holocaust written in a fugue form with lots of musical imagery.
These kind of connections are always occuring in my life. Do I just notice connections more often or do they really occur more often?
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