[Justice is sweet and musical; but injustice is harsh and discordant.]- Henry David Thoreau
Oh! In the moonlit night
String, brass, woodwind
and percussion instruments
shine like gold,
A criminal who plays the violin
and the piano concerto
with a single flute
amazing the midwife soprano's voice
the barber strums his classical guitar
The dumb usually begged along the church street
blows his clarinet
poor bearded father holds a heavy sacred book
and he stands nearby a politician's tomb.
This reminds me Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky's
ballet Swan Lake
when the beautiful girls come out from their graves
with garland of flowers.
How beautiful the illusory life here on burial grounds
when you compare with the bitter reality?
*I was really tempted by the poet Edgar Lee Master's 'Spoon river anthology'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem