LITANY FOR THE VIOLIN

 

Child of the old trees

who takes from their flesh its ancient history

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Mermaid with a tail of music,

full of longing and the emptiness of longing

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Whose lovers vie for her by their skill in stroking

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Whose receptivity must be matched

note for note, by their own

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Whose song is sweetness

unsurpassed in the ocean of air

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Whose silences are nuance

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Who sings in the plainsong of wood,

of the sheep in the strings and the horse

whose hair made the bow

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(Do they listen

with a greater understanding than we know?)

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