A High-Flown Parody

after Schumann’s Adagio und Allegro

A pre-dawn dream—or a vision…

In the warm, humid darkness of the jungle, a cello, turned into a canoe, draws away almost imperceptibly from a quiet shore and glides along Schumann’s Adagio. Its bow needs no arrows: the sounds loosed from it take flight and quietly pierce the pianist’s heart. He falls into the music with a small splash, and the waves bear him towards an island where the sacrificial pyre is already burning. The rite calls for a heart not yet cold. All the gods and demons clatter their teeth ravenously as they await the offering. What will they give in return? Knowledge? Temptation? A luscious illusion?

Meanwhile, a reddish moon rises above the island. Its colour portends a storm and seems to mirror the cello’s glints. The jungle holds its breath; only the last beats of the pianistic heart rustle. The Allegro flares up. Tongues of flame strain to merge with the moon, and at that moment the hurricane rears up.

The hurricane is a purifying elemental force. It couldn’t give a toss. It smashes the canoe to pieces and flings it through the darkness. It hurls fire in every direction across the island, swallowing the pianist’s body. With a merry laugh, it grinds bones and skin, gets drunk on his flavour, and gives the gods the finger.

Silent and scowling, they watch the feast and wonder why they ever gave the elements the right to choose. A foolish creative act, now imperilling the bounty of their repast. Yet even the Gods cannot undo what they have created.

Then one of them gets a mischievous idea. He snaps his fingers and enchants the bow, then flings it into the thicket. The bow turns into a bird; the bird plunges into the hurricane’s bosom and snatches from it the heart left uneaten, tucked away for dessert. Then it shoots over the crest of the hoodwinked storm and bears its trophy to the moon.

The moon shines—white, feminine and calm. The pianist sighs and opens his eyes. Invisible forces gather the fragments of the canoe and, with nimble fingers, fashion a new vessel: the most exquisite barque, sailing regally past the jungle’s half-drowned shores.

The music continues.

That’s it.

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