Thursday, November 25, 2010

Upon Listening To Chesnokov

The voices of Russians singing,
Twenty men and twenty women,
Join and blend and soar
In a sonic-rainbow harmony so
Beautiful and ethereal,
So haunting, that it
Aches behind my eyes
And wrings something inside, hinting
That there's a momentary place
Beyond, where all is well,
And peaceful-delightful,
Like the precious minutes
Of an orange-purple sunset,
Or lovers' embrace...
The music ends,
And I die a little...

No comments:

Post a Comment