It's taken me many a day
To get Schumann,
His sad tales
Gently rocking.
I had to learn to pause for grief,
To hear clear
Its ticking,
Ever waiting simplicity.
I had to improvise,
Not follow rigidly,
To find clues that wait
Beyond the score.
I had to stop expecting
Something grand and flashy,
Accept the clear contrast
Of each passing gesture.
I had to learn to strum,
To pick out melody
From a ripened bard
With tales to tell.
I face Schumann now,
His sadness accepted,
His madness, not mine,
No longer threatens.
I've time to play, to hear,
Schumann at last,
At that uncertain juncture
Where words and music join.
