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The Story Of Bartolomeo Cristofori

Bartolomeo

he woke to a howl

he saw that Italy was in Night

So he lit a candle

starred through his window

saw Women in love

Dogs wandering

a man playing a Violin

the color of every woman's hair

as she crossed him

 

Bartolomeo

stood up from his tiny bed and put on his shoes

opened his wooden door and looked over Venice

the air was thick with sleep

thin with open Eyes

 

he stepped out into the Night

crossing a river

where a Frog laughed

where a Bird chirped

 

He was headed to a ball

filled with beautiful women

the richest of wine a man could taste

 

He crossed the river

passed a few homes:

children sleeping

mothers fathers love making

drunks drinking

birds flying to their nests

 

Bartolomeo

decided to take a short cut to the Ball

went into the woods

where he got lost

 

The sun came up

hungry

thirsty and dry to the skin

 

Night came again

 

Bartolomeo

kept walking

following the smells and sounds of homes

 

Then an Angel showed her self to him

The Angel had said she was “Mousai”

 

Bartolomeo asked The Angel if she was the Angel of Death

She laughed

saying

“Quite the opposite”

 

and she whispered into both of his ears

fell to his knees

and collapsed onto his belly

 

When he woke

he was back in his bed

 

With the Violin player out of his window

and the women in love

the dog wandering

with the Ball still in order

 

Then he had the strangest urge

 

he looked into his breast pocket and found a drawing of a strange looking box with legs and strings

 

it read

'gravicembalo col piano e forte'

 

So he took it to a Violin maker

 

Bartolomeo showed him the paper

 

the Violin maker asked him what it was

 

and Bartolomeo explained to him that the Angel of Death came to see him in his dreams and left this in his pocket

 

that the Angel of Death whispered a strange Tune in his ear

which made him fall to his knees and belly

 

He told the Violin maker that this is the Tune you heard before your Death

 

The Violin maker

was cautious at first

so Bartolomeo offered him gold to build it

So the violin maker did so

 

When Bartolomeo's project was finished

 

He trusted it to be the voice of Death

that any man who heard it

was to die

 

So he took it out to the middle of the Forest

thick with trees

 

 

Pressed a key

the hairs on his neck stood

 

he waited for her

for Death

 

She never came

 

So he pressed another key

 

a slightly different pitch

 

Then another

it was thicker

more hollow

 

and to the far left

was higher

sharper than the others

 

then Bartolomeo ran his fingers across all of the keys

 

his eyes closed in fright

in ecstasy

 

Bartolomeo

left it there

for the night

 

and went back to his little home

and slept

 

in his Dream

a Tune played

it played through his bones

his hair

the eye lashes on his skull

the thin layer of skin on his lips

the palms of his hands

Throat

Stomach and Legs

 

The next day he stayed inside

worried that Death was outside his door

 

He waited for the moon to be dominate

 

He entered the woods

 

To find his musical Death Siren

 

Still there

 

And he sat at this Death Siren

 

Pressed a key

The Night seemed to hover over him

Like the lights of a Play

Like the Rifles of an execution

Like the Lips of a Woman

Like the Eyes of a child

 

He pressed another

 

Then he remembered the song in his Dream

and Pressed another key

 

Closing his eyes

he heard the song behind his eye lids

on the lobes of his ears

the end of his nose

and the tips of his fingers

 

And he played the Tune

What he thought that Death

had whispered into his ear

and down his spine like dripping wax on a tree stump

 

The Trees bent closer to hear

The Roses

The Birds

The Snakes

The Rats

The Moon

The Def

The Blind

The Mad

The Moth

The Dog

The Feline

 

Bent closer into the night

and gazed into the Forest

 

The Night was filled with his Tune

a mix of sorrow

of lasting hope

of a lover walking into the arms of Eternity's Death Canoe

of Sunrise

of starvation cured by bread and wine and cheese and meat

of *** and lust and love and lips

of death of tears of lonely nights

of war veterans

of sailors of painters of mothers of fathers

a mix of

Death and the smell of coffee

of

A woman and a lake

of

The Fountain of Youth and cigarettes

of

Adam and Eve

of

Insomnia and a runny nose

of

Waking up

and Falling asleep.

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Written by
savio
American
Published
Apr 4, 2013
Lines·Words
167·818
Permission

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