O passionate music beating the troubled beat I have heard in my heart, in the wind, in the passing of feet, In the passing of dreams, when on heart-throbbing wings they move; O passionate music pallid with ghostly fears, Chill with the coming of rain, the beginning of tears, I come to you, fleeing you, finding you, fever of love! When I am sleepless at night and I play through the night, Lest I hear a voice, lest I see, appealing and white, The face that never, in dreams or at dawn, departs, Then it is, shuddering music my hands have played, I find you, fleeing you, finding you, music, made Of all passionate, wounded, capricious, consuming hearts. |