I also feel the desire for vengeance exploding in my
heart as I listen to Maria Callas, menacing Queen of
the Night, singing a solo from The Magic Flute as she
swears vengeance on Zoroaster - in my case it is the
massacre of the talking voices in the office as the
Noise rises and falls and what little of my wits I still had
with me, is lost in the unholy din - suddenly becalmed
I realise her voice is loose and free among the stars in
the sky as she swings like an acrobat between these
perfect notes leaving laserlike loops, both short and
Long, shimmering and vibrating in perfect pitch via the
sweet bell of her clear voice, in the air and in my mind,
taking all listeners with her on an unparalleled flight be-
tween the stars and we find ourselves enfolded within
the powerful might of her voice, resonant, magnificent
Who cares what happens to animal health certificates
when in spiritual heaven, flying on the notes sung by
an angel who once graced this earth with her art?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem