GOLDBERG VARIATIONS Poem by Stefan Hertmans

That we possessed the lightness
to fold our hands round music -
deliberation issuing from a fugue
protecting us because we've something we protect.

There are things you cannot learn.
They follow us like faithful dogs,
the gentle ankle biters of
tempers and humour.

That isn't why we do it,
we know it, we stay silent
exulting in the variations
over the passing years.

How often does one see what lasts,
this fraction of imagination?
And yet - a glimpse of a piano
at evening through an open window,

fragments of voices in the mist,
and all is open once again.