A Morte de W. A. Mozart

Oh boisterous heart,
Yet silenced by the shading;
Fingers in a sad timbre,
As a spring rose, fading.
Within the night and the sweat,
The whispers were read,
All assembled in a claim.
And a last melody again,
Recurring in a low tenor,
Sounding B or F major,
All through the stillness surrounding.
Astonishing, I would say.
[Swiftly, the echo of laughter,
Perceived before, that day.]
So, then, the eyes wide opened,
Gazing the quiet top,
Allowed a tender gasp –
Down, above and then stopped;
The hands lying on the sheet
As if a piano
[A distant cry of a soprano!]
Giving a last silenced tone,
Without a cry or a weeping moan,
Slowly expired, as the softness
Of a sonata,
The suddenness of a cantata,
Again listened, only tuned much stronger!
Oh, now his essence left, he lives no longer…