In a partially flooded field I saw a derelict piano
Next to a bonfire not yet consumed
It was quite alone and had quietly accepted its inevitable fate
The winter mosaics had already attacked its wretched keys
And the rains journeyed without passion through its barren church
You were once the shelter of a great happiness
I who have nothing will teach you peace
These words were once set to music but are no longer celebrated
Fortune has not been kind to my fading pen