Memories of yesterday, roasting chestnuts on an open fire,
being played by a gentleman sitting here at the piano,
playing the ivories through intuitive memories of sound.
As his fingers remember the notes, doing it his way, tak-
ing care to be himself, a full and lively array of thoughts
just waiting to be brought forth from within, a very tantal-
izing aspect of melodies from this gentleman.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem