#Piano Poem

[azurexaiya]

28.10.2023 No.23.

And I still love you

Years are melting together in one huge twisted soup

It is the painting on you face

I shiver when I'm close again

You are everywhere

I have lost the trace 

To forget

And yet I remember

My muse

My love

My tender carresment of the soul

It was always you

My witness

And friend

Mutely watching my tortures

Listening to my pains

Harmonizing your strings with my sorrows

And solitude

And then there begun the days

We have been separated

I have avoided the roads to you

And forgot how to sing by you

My dear

My lovely

My rich and nutritious

My beautifuly out of tune

I still love you

Crippled by the time

Robbed by my fear

I won't need my memory to know this

Every time I come close I shiver

My piano

[theacademiccottage]

“At the touch of love everyone becomes a poet.”

[thatsbelievable]

[fieldofdahlias]

As beautiful as brown eyes

[shrimpchipsss]

this luo binghe only listens to tortured classical music

[ettaevie]

It’s been a longstanding headcanon of mine for Piano Man’s real name to be Saburo Moroi, after the famous pianist/composer who was a close friend of the poet Chuuya Nakahara. 

But when I started researching Moroi a bit deeper for the sake of my Flags backstory fic (which I am still writing, shockingly) I learned a new piece of info that added some fuel to my cracked-out fire:

“During his third year at university, Moroi formed a music group “Surya” (the “sun god” in Sanskrit) with his friends. It served as an organization for performing his own works, and by 1931 seven concerts had been given there. His activities with “Surya” brought wider recognition, and it also became a society for young literary men and artists, including Tetsutaro Kawakami, Hideo Kobayashi, Chuya Nakahara, Tatsuji Miyoshi, Hidemi Kon, Shohei O’oka and Kenzo Nakajima, many of whom were later to become renowned literary critics, poets and novelists.”

So not only were Moroi and Chuuya friends and collaborators, they were also part of the same coterie of up-and-coming young men founded by Moroi himself, with a catchy symbolic name and everything.

So now I’m a little more convinced I was on the right track with the whole "Piano Man is Moroi” thing, and my crack theory has evolved into believing that the Flags are a sort of callback to Surya.

Anyway here’s the musical booklet I gleaned this from: https://www.chandos.net/chanimages/Booklets/NA7162.pdf 

P.S. The recording is on Spotify and I highly recommend the last three movements. They are Moroi’s magnum opus and they go HARD

[buwaiyakin]

"Until the running of our blood becomes One with the whirlings of forgotten suns, One with the heavings of forsaken seas, One music with all that is dear earth; Until there is no more for armoured life But, lovingly, to lay down arms before The earth imperative, transfigured Earth Until we find night-breathing pray’r upon Our twisted lips:                             We are commemoration Of a dead, but resurrected life" - R. Zulueta da Costa

[lcselkonusmalar]

Karşındakinin gözlerinde kendini görebilmektir Aşk.

[yuri-is-online]

congrats on 500 followers, you deserve it!! ^_^ i adore your writing! for the masquerade event, may i request prompt 11 with trey, jamil and rook? thank you so much!

11. There is a really lovely moon outside tonight that you find yourself admiring, but if you would just turn around you would find someone admiring you.

Annon my lovely annon how does it feel to have such a wonderful beautiful brain, this is perhaps the most perfect line up of characters for this prompt. I'm happy you like my writing and really hope you like this.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, I can't speak French so none of that for Rook, sorry I do not trust google translate. So many references to music in this one... the other event quests can be found on my masterlist.

Trey

If Trey had to pick something about himself he liked he would probably pick his height. It made certain things easier, like walking through crowds and looking at things in the far off distance. It makes these little emotions he has when he sees you easier to deal with, he can always excuse himself and observe from afar. Trey prides himself on being realistic about these sorts of things, prides himself on his restraint and ability to keep things calm.

But it's hard to deny the truth. Painful even. He can feel the ache even before he sees you, his hand even twitches with the desire to reach out and break your reverie. But he can't, you aren't exactly alone, you walked out on to the balcony with Ace and Deuce close at your heels. They're joking with you, distracting you from the moon and stars he thinks you wanted to observe, but you can't seem to bring yourself to be annoyed with them. That's fine, Trey can be annoyed enough for you both. He would never call himself "massive" but he is certainly blessed with a broad set of shoulders.

And an exceptionally creepy (Rook had insisted it was fancy, très magnifique) bird mask that sends the dynamic duo fleeing back to the ballroom "abandoning" you to your fate. He would be tempted to laugh but he does not want to talk to you just yet. You shake your head in amused affection, relaxing onto the railing and letting some of the night's tension roll off your shoulders. He does the same, trying to give you space but not avoiding you when you move closer.

"The moon is beautiful tonight." Trey says after he's let you have your moment, surprised when you turn to him with a flustered look on your face. "That's what you came here to look at, right?" You cough, not helping his certainty but the shy smile that flickers onto your face suggests he has not made a misstep, not exactly anyway.

"It's a nice night." You say. "Stay with me, won't you?" There's emotion to the request he's tempted to read into. Tempted to classify as the same longing he feels and barely swallows when he looks into your eyes.

"I'll stay as long as you like." He says softly, and tries not to smile too much when you lean your head onto his shoulder.

Jamil

He is in love. You look like a ridiculous child and he is in love, Jamil is smiling at every move you make like he is actually happy for once. It's all he can do to pull himself away from his hiding place out to the courtyard you have decided to to stargaze in, as much as he wants to continue admiring you he would rather no one else see him in this horrifying mood.

"When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie~" You are dancing, he thinks, but it looks more like you are jumping trying to catch the moon in your hands, the rest of your silly song devolving into fits of giggles as you twirl, obsessing over the way the fabric of your costume follows you as you twirl. "Jamil!" You notice him the second he joins you, your hands immediately reach out for his. He lets you take him, lets you guide him in a jerky series of movements he knows aren't real dance moves. You're happy, and seeing him has made you happier.

"Just what are you doing?" He's almost laughing himself now, letting you guide him through your made up dance. "Wouldn't you rather be back in the ballroom?" You hum and shake your head.

"It's too busy in there, I wanted to look at the moon." Your dance slows to a gentle sway, Jamil takes advantage of the lull to take control of the flow, guiding you into a more structured dance. The silver light seems to kiss you, as if the moon is happy you came to look at her. Too bad, Jamil doesn't intend to let your attention wander back her way.

"You know, the view of the moon from Scarabia is especially beautiful, perhaps you would like a change of scenery when you're ready to leave." Jamil helps you twirl your costume, doing his best to guide you back towards the ballroom. He might have been spending his time hiding among the furniture of the ballroom, but he had a plan for tonight. One that involved you wrapped around his finger and waltzing well into the hours of the morning, and while he is not exactly picky about where-

He would very much like everyone to see just where you are ending your night.

Rook

The music in the ballroom drowns the tiny hymn that comes from the balcony. Even if anyone else had been looking for it, they would have found it impossible to hear, but Rook is no casual observer. To the casual observer, Rook is merely standing near the windows and their curtains, the Prefect's strange tune barely recognizable even there.

But then recognizable is not the right word. Rook highly doubts anyone in this world other than him had heard this song.

Initially you had walked onto this balcony because Grim had mentioned seeing a piano there earlier and that had struck you as odd. Why stick a piano out on a balcony if there was going to be a ball with live music inside the actual ballroom why stick an instrument out in the cold? You had thought it would look lonely, but the moon has decided to make it look romantic. Seeing no one around you settle yourself at the keys. And begin to try and play along with the tune in your head.

Rook holds himself back from going to you, telling himself to wait until you look his way, but you don't. You are content to sit and pluck at the piano, seeking the keys that match the memory of another world, another moon. He waits and waits, but still you only idly glance up at the night sky, and never his direction.

"What sweet torture," he murmurs into his mask "to be so ignored by such a perfect sight." As the music finds a stride you still hum, to his great relief. The pitch and quality of the melody matters little when observing someone's most private reflections. What matters is the far away look in their eye, the pride with which they rest their finished fingers on the keys and think aloud some words unlikely to be theirs but fitting all the same.

"Their song interweaves melancholy with moonlight, quiet moonlight so sad and lovely that it makes birds dream in their trees, while fountains sob in ecstasy..."* Your eyes finally turn his way and you startle. He pries his mask free from his face to reassure you of your safety; to you, it is like he has appeared from thin air, but you know him well enough that your surprised smile is more a courtesy than genuine surprise.

"Just how long have you been here Rook?" Your fingers twitch with embarrassment at the keys.

"I was lured here the moment you began to sing my lovely trickster." He bows, mask placed over his heart in genuine devotion. "Truly the power the your soul's voice has to command my steps is frightening." You sigh, embarrassment twinged with joy as you move yourself to make room for him by your side.

"Well then why don't you sit next to me and listen to just how badly I can butcher this piece." He very much doubts you could do such a thing, but who is he to deny your every request?

"My Trickster, I would love nothing more save you."

*Clair de Lune, Paul Verlaine 1869, translated by John Argo 2017. As a note to the interested reader, the linked song is named after the poem. I'm rather fond of it as I once owned a music box that played it.

[theonlylivingirlinewyork]

i wanted to leave - syml

[sweetsweetperil]

A black lit room

Filled with the finest of vanilla perfumes,

Hidden, yet not afraid to bloom

My fingers that dance and the piano that moves,

Singing a song you’ve yet to hear

But feel you already knew

[pen-pain-poetry]

Piano

whenever i sit at piano, my hands just tremble, i guess its muscle memory at this point, and chain reaction, of my body, it's just happens, because you always wanted a perfect note, and if i failed, i would face the consequences, so it was always on my mind, I better get this right, so i could sleep at night, without going through the pain and ache that never seem to left, whenever i sit at piano, because my hands just tremble, and i always make mistakes. so i always face the consequences, and fear always seem to multiply, of sitting at piano, so my hands always just trembles, and i always face the consequences.

©Pen_Pain_Poetry

[gasparodasalo]

Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) - 6 Poetic Tone-Pictures for Piano, Op. 3, IV. Andante con sentimento. Performed by Alexey Zuev, 1849 Érard piano.

[messrsnana]

Regulus in the slytherin dorms, circa 1976/4th year

[thomaslightwoodenthusiast]

WHY IS THE FACT THAT THOMAS IS CANONICALLY A GREAT SINGER AND WRITES HIS OWN POETRY ALWAYS FORGOTTEN. WHY DOES NOBODY TALK ABOUT IT. WE SHOULD DEFINITELY BE TALKING ABOUT IT.

[dabiconcordia]

This Was How He Played He gathered moonlight with his song, brought the taste of the day to his lips— each note an offering to ancestors.   His hands danced along the keys. The choreography of melody told a story, and we listened for clues. Lush tunes with augmented chords, he used the pedal with purpose to let notes linger.   The confines of his day at the bank were abandoned for music. His commute home, now long forgotten. His hurried lunch, replaced by a languorous supper.   This was how my grandfather played the piano. by Cristina M. R. Norcross