Leaves on the ground flare in moonglow,
So I can read the symbols in the air.
As if someone I used to know
Sends me the letter from nowhere.
And suddenly the memory gets sick,
It brings me back to that forgotten layer,
Where slanting sunbeams touch the cheek
Of the miracle, blue-eyed piano player.
She’s sitting on a wooden bench.
Just one step forward and she is so close.
Wish I could speak a little French,
It suits well to speak with the perfect rose.
I see the setting sun is giving her a kiss.
She tames the notes with her lovely fingers.
They’re moving slower. And the piano keys
Ask at a loss: why does she linger?
And trying not to let the moment pass,
I’m quiet on this September evening.
She’s playing for me a long-forgotten waltz,
And it’s the only thing that has a meaning…
There are lost moments in our life,
We don’t know how to come back there.
The river dries and we can no more dive…
But then, we get the letter from nowhere.