Aged patina of ivory keys.
Chipped at the corners.
Black and white worn.
Still, as always,
able to coax beautiful notes
From willing keys.
To lighten the mood
or heighten suspense.
Notes tumble one after another.
Each key, a single note.
When enchanted
able to suspend reality
in concert with its kinsman.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem