Early Music VII

François Couperin “Les Lis Naissans” (Treizième Ordre)

 

I see them first in church

from my eyrie when I

have no need to play,

buds blooming with no thorns

sitting quietly by their

blown Mothers, waiting their turn.

 

I see them next at Court

saddled and bridled, ready to be

ridden hard, their small hands

clutching mechanically at

anything that’s offered

except the reins.

 

I see them most at

Pompes Funêbres,

burying babies, each one a

new furrow in the

badly ploughed field of a

once-pleasant meadow.

 

I see them last in church

followed by the buds that

bested Winter to be

measured for bridles on this

altar bestrewn with

Easter.blossom.

 

Me? I just play to numb whilst I

make music in my mind that

hymns wasted hymens, sad Mothers

leading daughters to slaughter, hoping that

somewhere beauty and the heart

are aligned.

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Comments

  • Agatha-luise  On March 30, 2013 at 2:26 pm

    You have somehow summarized the bitter growth of little girls to womanhood.

    I’d like to believe that the only thing making this poem a sad one is that the voice in the poem wasn’t able to change any of their fate. The speaker was just a mere spectator of all bitter change.

  • Harper Eliot  On April 1, 2013 at 4:53 pm

    Oh my goodness; this is really striking. Not sure what to say about it…

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