Her hands remember the piano
And soon she is remembering her sorrow
As he, who is older, smiles without regrets
And listens to her music her music forgets.
The evening does not see the evening,
The world cannot see the world.
He smiles, remembering when she was a girl
And he worried about everything.
Her sorrow is surprised how much her sorrow seems
To be the music she is playing for him—who loves to sleep, a sleep lovely for its dreams.
