Playing in a Budapest Cafe
The clock goes off, 1999
in my cold Budapest room
at the Autumnal Equinox
I'm late as usual
for my rehearsal
of Bartok's sonata in C
without excuse
know this music
pierced my sleepwalking
rush downstairs
with a strudel in hand
comb the river
with a cool breeze
by quivering hilly trees
on my tucked out shirt
bells turn up from roofs
where at first light
a cyan blue sky serves
us another color
of unconsumed sunshine
feeling like a third horseman
holding my violin case
sonata notes and rosin bag
close to the poet
Atilla Jozsef's statue
suddenly recalling
as if in a mirrored epiphany
in another world
a critic who telling us
the trio we practiced
underwritten by Szigeti
was influenced
by Benny Goodman
when jazz modulated
our composer's music.
- B.Z. Niditch 2013
3 comments:
Another fine poem, B.Z. You just don't stop, do you!
Reading B.Z. Niditch is an amazing experience for those readers who have a sensitive soul and look for another sensitive soul.
His poetry is a reflection of the Universe: with quick and accurate strokes he is able to describe scenes that can remind us of Kafka, Joyce or Dalí.
With his poetry he tries to communicate with everyone of us.....telling about a world we are not aware of...so strange and far but so near and familiar to us at the same time.
After having read one of his poems the time goes and goes by but its images remain in us for ever.
Fer
Powerful descriptive approach--I could see it all, untucked shirt, partially eaten strudel and violin case. Jazz, always there underneath the superficial rhythm. Why not?
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