to be sung on the water

a little tribute to a beautiful peace of music and a wonderful interpreter...
Round and round like a merry-go-round
cradled by your dreamy sounds
your timbre full of shangri-la
of teint-de-neige, wild lavender
your fingers fondleing the keys
the grand piano sighs in ease
and now absolute certainity
this charming sprite will bewicht me
and schubert incarnates again
leads us to the river´s end
majestic reeds swayed by the wind
and all reflect sky´s orange tint
his hands play june, play spring, play fall
and answer the dark violins call
i fall for you, my peculiar friend
for everey finger on your hands
there´s something in your piano playing
a mother-tongue an ancient saying
evolving like nostalgia and basal as a phobia
if only i could raise a plea
to make you stop this tyranny
the beauty of his melody as well as all its agony
but i don´t dare to make a sound
i cannot leave this old haunt
round and round like a merry-go-round
cradled by your dreamy sound...