Days of the Tel-Aviv Conservatory

The Italian pianist died and his piano died with him.
I remember the recording torments, the clothing, the bow.
He loved race cars
women
a truncate-headed piano grows two heads.
The air stood still for a long while.
And for days after.
Silent times.
Converting sound to word
was a forlorn reward
anyhow, the beginning was small
and the end should greatly blunder.
Eurydice was left behind.