"I am in need of music that would flow
Over my fretful, feeling finger-tips,
Over my bitter-tainted, trembling lips,
With melody, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying, old and low,
Of some song sung to rest the tired dead,
A song to fall like water on my head,
And over quivering limbs, dream flushed to glow!
There is a magic made by melody:
A spell of rest, and quiet breath, and cool
Heart, that sinks through fading colors deep
To the subaqueous stillness of the sea,
And floats forever in a moon-green pool,
Held in the arms of rhythm and of sleep"
“I am in Need of Music” by Elizabeth Bishop (1928)
I am in need of a cure that would flow
Over my fretful lungs and feeling finger-tips,
Over my mask-covered, trembling lips
With internal pulse, deep, clear, and liquid-slow.
Oh, for the healing swaying old and low,
Some breathing sung, lying sideways on the bed,
A throat song to build the waves in my head,
And over my quivering cheeks flushed to glow.