...For my daughter, upon watching her play piano and finding melodies of a beauty so far out of my reach...
Your left hand looked a lot like mine – but it wasn’t.
Your left hand moved a little like mine – but with far greater grace
[well, it would, wouldn’t it – you suit so well the name we gave you].
Fluency flowed liberally from your fingertips,
For all the world as if the keys were calling for your caress:
Attending upon your attention.
Michaelangelo sought the shape in the stone –
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem