In addition to the dreamy midnight glow of arched street lamps, the drifting scents of fresh bread and pastries, and discovering perfectly fabulous shoe boutiques while strolling along cobblestone streets, one of the many things I adore about European cities is the seemingly endless ability to hear live classical music. In a cathedral, a music academy, the subway. Anytime, anywhere and most times for less than $10. When I lived in Paris years ago as a student, I often found myself on a weekday evening in a church of ancient stone, huddling with a large gathering of other music lovers around a grand piano or cellos, violins and a harp, surrounded by candles and the magical, permeating sounds of centuries old music that, frankly, never loses its lustre. Sorry Mick Jagger. Mozart, Brahms, Beethoven, Liszt, Rachmaninoff, Wagner ~ these are the rock stars that never age.
LISZT MEMORIAL
By Jennifer Dowd
the piano is open one
hundred lights burn
overhead popping from brass arms
loosely robed cherubs toss
bouquets and shepherds converge
with deities, a Roman soldier
stands attentive against
a tall white wall
it’s eleven in the morning
on a Saturday in Budapest
and I’m nearly forty-seven
years younger than everyone
else in here
waiting for the music to begin
in from the cold it’s so warm
I’m drifting while he plays
the notes of a hundred
years
my head nods to the solace
of rhythm
a dense
dense
song
© Jennifer Dowd
thelemoncake.com 