Đàn Bầu

I wrote something today, galleons. See if you catch all the references.

Mud-speckled boots tramping past
The woman bowed over the string
Plucking notes that bend and twist
To shape and symbol in the future
Harmonics of instrumentalis
Mathematics demonstrated
Painting grand relations between
Their perfectly controlled notes
And the sorrow of her dirge
Because when he doesn’t come home
Left to bleed in foreign grass
Explosions dimming in his ears
It will be her song he hears
Echoed in the spheres

Pythagoras is crossing bridges
While blacksmiths smash an ancient rhythm
Sliding high from sea to G
Stacking, stacking, till perfection
The hammers fall in supplication
Music sounding in their prayer
Gods of stone and flame
And the sweat of human perseverance
Shape the earth to their will
Burn the flesh and sow the soil
Strike the steel until it sings
And philosopher sees the pattern
Ratios of form and matter
Mysteries around him shatter

Three come in as two go out
And Hell has never seemed so small
Rasterised and made to fit
The damned, still dancing, gaily go
While Dante watches sinners pass
And dreams of the starlit sky
Of the orbits of the divine
Where Kepler conducts a symphony
Motion bleeding into song
While far below, Planck writes his own
And strings vibrate in harmony
So that Dante, when he listens, hears
The song of life, of love, of years
In the music of the spheres

Yeah, the flow’s still a bit wonky, but I’m sure I’ll be able to work it out when I come back to revise it in a few weeks.

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