Winter 1946 • Vol. VIII No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 1946 |

Vienna: 1945

Across his piano the pale composer sprawlsInsensible, a great corrupted toadThat was a man alive, appassionata,Who found the music poison and is dead. As if it were a frail belief in steel,The allegory of war, the city shudders.Ruins pirouette grotesquely, pavements reelSlopping music out of a tilted skull. As if it were by bombs the stained cityIs dispassionate and empty and men turn in bloodAnd silence grows with every explosionLike grass upon ill-starred deserted streets. And the dead composer, transfixed to a moment,Would still be dreaming if he were aliveOf music stranger, stronger, bitterer—War in the inner chamber of the night.

Already have an account? Login

Join KR for even more to read.

Register for a free account to read five free pieces a month from our current issue and digital archive.
Register for Free and Read This Piece



Or become a subscriber today and get complete, immediate access to our digital archives at every subscription level.

Read More

The Child in the Egg

By Harold French

Across his piano the pale composer sprawlsInsensible, a great corrupted toadThat was a man alive, appassionata,Who found the music poison and is dead. As if it were a frail belief […]

Man with a Beard

By Harold French

Across his piano the pale composer sprawlsInsensible, a great corrupted toadThat was a man alive, appassionata,Who found the music poison and is dead. As if it were a frail belief […]

Subscribe

Your free registration with Kenyon review incudes access to exclusive content, early access to program registration, and more.

Donate

With your support, we’ll continue 
to cultivate talent and publish extraordinary literature from diverse voices around the world.