The little artist came out to the scene -
And after that the Universe disrupted.
So hundreds birds flew here with the spin
And all the sky was separated and parted.
His sounds lifted up to heaven' heights
And then fell down to that one deepest level.
It was phantasmagoric music tides
Created by the hands of this small rebel.
When all was quiet the world revived,
The huge hall gasped and walls began to tremble.
And everything resounded and survived
In that inhuman thunderous ensemble.
He pulled the bow and twisted silly smile,
He was embarassed in the world so crowded.
He was the greatest one for not awhile,-
But he just really didn't know about it...
The Violist
© Copyright: Юрий Розвадовский, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108040500588
Свидетельство о публикации №108040500588
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