a single, lonely song. She toys with the story
as her ivory fingers falter along
on the string of black and white ivory.
She forgets the song, but keeps on trying
for she longs to ascend with tunes, a bird
that could take wing, float, go into soaring,
but she’s pulled back by memories that hurt.

This is the song she played as a young girl,
and when with father they loved each other …
She played it again after I was born
and relearned it after it was forlorn.
Oh, how much longing and how many years
of a gray working life are in a tune…
Amazing that it carries all this swoon,
It’s amazing her burden bides without tears.
Her withering youth had blanched with this song
and dwindled into fading mileposts along...
Clinks and clinks on this sentimental schmaltz,
but it’s deep and it hurts like a Chopin waltz.

Translated by László Fülöp