She tickled the harp's ribs;
As if it were a young child,
The notes escaped giggling;
The harp happy and beguiled.
Notes so silkily smooth,
None too flat or too sharp,
As her fingers flowed like liquid
Over the strings of her harp.
Notes twinkling like the stars
From the dark heavens above,
Winging their way skywards as if
Chased by a white dove.
Notes deceptively simple,
Yet so perfectly placed,
Music freed now forever;
Never again to be traced...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem