‘Yesterday Vivaldi visited me; and sold me some very expensive concertos’

He had only one tune.

And that

a thin finger on pulses:

of spring and the frost,

the quick turn of girls’ eyes

a tune

to hold against darkness,

to fret

for trumpet, for lute

for flutes; violins

to silver the shabbiness

of many towns

the fool's bowl, the court coat,

a tune he would give:

without sorrow or freedom

again, again

there is only one tune.

Sell it dearly to live.

ALISON BRACKENBURY

Dixit Dominus

Antonio Vivaldi is smiling with pleasure,

peering over the painted balustrade

(birds and cherubs in steep perspective

circling his head as they rise to Heaven)

on a painted ceiling – or so I imagine,

while listening to a performance

of his newly-discovered piece of music:

glorious sounds we hear together

If those annotated sheets of paper –

fragile treasure – survived for centuries,

then inconceivable that their creator

does not enjoy this harmony

of voices and instruments, this blend

of ecstatic vibrations, now, from his cloud

in the sky, or seated beside me – both

of us sharing it, smiling with pleasure.

RUTH FAINLIGHT

Vivaldi's Bow

I’ve begun to finger the bow

and imagine those melancholy sighs

which trembled from his lips

on freezing Thursdays in the orphanage.

He had the patience of a cat,

the temper of a wild wind coming up the canal.

He hated most of us but sometimes his head

would still be beneath his red strands of hair.

Once I saw him pluck a swatch, thread it between

the usual horsehair, play a riff, the scales.

We would play as he stalked the rows,

stopped near a girl: she would tremble at her violin.

He’d begin scribbling a piece just for her,

for the next concert. I’d feel nauseous

because it wasn't me. My playing didn't excite

though I practised to exhaustion.

There was a turning over of the place

when the bow went missing.

I slipped it into the gap under the marble step

as I scrubbed it with my raw hands.

This my daily chore: my red hands were never

for coaxing true music out of maplewood

and spruce but they could clean and polish

marble fit for Vivaldi's shoes.