ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
literature
The Violinist
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
The case was uncovered.
A hand stroked the bow, gently, mildly.
He picked up the bow with great caution
Like a warrior with his favourite sword-
He relies on it, he cares for it,
And he lives with it.
He looked at the violin-
No, he was looking back at the past.
Reminiscing, wondering, murmuring,
He shook his head, suddenly.
With a kiss,
He drew it out.
He started to play
A Largo- a slow, grave piece
Like a mountain,
Withstanding the tremendous pressure of the sky,
Witnessing the numerous changes of the earth,
Withholding the excessiveness of mankind.
He then brought us to the river-
The messenger of the mountain.
The river talks rapidly, promptly,
Stirring up emotions,
Spreading happiness,
Searching for a dream and a destination.
The violinist certainly found his dream:
Echoes of glory, fame and admiration.
He became Newton, Goethe and Genghis Khan,
Treading an entirely new way,
Triumphing against the evil,
Trampling on every opposition.
The river suddenly turned into a waterfall:
Sadness poured, unstoppable,
With his eyes shining with memories:
Days of popularity, pomp, loneliness and rags,
The day to know his intimate and
The day he was lost forever.
Standing in front of the tomb,
The violinist stopped.
His tears rolled down his cheeks
As he drew out a blade.
Out came the last notes of the violin-
Is there anyone alive who could understand his music?
A hand stroked the bow, gently, mildly.
He picked up the bow with great caution
Like a warrior with his favourite sword-
He relies on it, he cares for it,
And he lives with it.
He looked at the violin-
No, he was looking back at the past.
Reminiscing, wondering, murmuring,
He shook his head, suddenly.
With a kiss,
He drew it out.
He started to play
A Largo- a slow, grave piece
Like a mountain,
Withstanding the tremendous pressure of the sky,
Witnessing the numerous changes of the earth,
Withholding the excessiveness of mankind.
He then brought us to the river-
The messenger of the mountain.
The river talks rapidly, promptly,
Stirring up emotions,
Spreading happiness,
Searching for a dream and a destination.
The violinist certainly found his dream:
Echoes of glory, fame and admiration.
He became Newton, Goethe and Genghis Khan,
Treading an entirely new way,
Triumphing against the evil,
Trampling on every opposition.
The river suddenly turned into a waterfall:
Sadness poured, unstoppable,
With his eyes shining with memories:
Days of popularity, pomp, loneliness and rags,
The day to know his intimate and
The day he was lost forever.
Standing in front of the tomb,
The violinist stopped.
His tears rolled down his cheeks
As he drew out a blade.
Out came the last notes of the violin-
Is there anyone alive who could understand his music?
The Alpha of this poem is Rabindranath Tagore. I was reading his poems in Devon when I paused here:
'The singer alone does not make a song, there has to be someone who hears.' (Broken Song, by Tagore)
This reminds me of a Chinese tale concerning two very good friends: one was a musician and the other was very able in the appreciation of musical talents (He's not a critic though). The former usually played in private and shared his best musical moments with his friend. The friend, however, died early and the musician refused to play again from then onwards.
Then I conceived a powerful image when I was playing the piano... It was this powerful image that gave me a determination to finish this poem... (The last bit of my poem)
Suggestion: Handel's Largo (Xerxes) for the third verse, Handel's Water Music for the fourth verse, Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture for the fifth verse and Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor (Pathetique) for the sixth verse. They are what I am listening when I wrote the verse.
Warning: This poem contains violence and may not be suitable for violin players....
Declaration: During the production of the poem, no violins were actually harmed, hurt, decapitated or destroyed.
'The singer alone does not make a song, there has to be someone who hears.' (Broken Song, by Tagore)
This reminds me of a Chinese tale concerning two very good friends: one was a musician and the other was very able in the appreciation of musical talents (He's not a critic though). The former usually played in private and shared his best musical moments with his friend. The friend, however, died early and the musician refused to play again from then onwards.
Then I conceived a powerful image when I was playing the piano... It was this powerful image that gave me a determination to finish this poem... (The last bit of my poem)
Suggestion: Handel's Largo (Xerxes) for the third verse, Handel's Water Music for the fourth verse, Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture for the fifth verse and Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 8 in C Minor (Pathetique) for the sixth verse. They are what I am listening when I wrote the verse.
Warning: This poem contains violence and may not be suitable for violin players....
Declaration: During the production of the poem, no violins were actually harmed, hurt, decapitated or destroyed.
© 2006 - 2024 knightofgarter
Comments15
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
Wow, beautiful! Love the inspiration behind it.