Schumann No.2 Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Schumann No.2

Undress to be self
Shrug off all the years
Days or weeks of your age.
The whitish on your head, grey hair.

Live like past
Sit tightly on a bench
Wooden, the shared table
Squeezed, full of boys, is class.

Door Opens
“Get on feet” you hear
You stand, turn your head
Walks a man to front; has a bag.

Strange
He to the students
He takes out of his bag.
Now you know; ‘a clarinet’.

You are in fifth grade
In that age nothing but children
Music is the word of devil, to parents
Tall teacher starts with: “Let us sing together.”

On the board is poem
That’s Saddi’s; for orphans.
“I too lost my father in childhood
I feel them. Have same pain, empathize.”

Some boy laughs
Teacher bursts to smash
The head of the poor boy he grabs.
He howls like a worlf; bang-bang-bang.

Music dies in you
No more is the nicest
You see no harmony in nature
Wound is healed by the time; no sickness.

Thank you musicians and great instruments.