I play Haydn after a black day
And feel a simple warmth in my hands.
The keys are willing. Soft hammers strike. The resonance green, lively and calm.
The music says freedom exists
And someone doesn't pay the emperor tax.
I push down my hands in my Haydnpockets
And imitate a person looking on the world calmly.
I hoist the Haydn flag - it signifies:
We don't give in. But want peace.'
The music is a glass-house on the slope
Where the stones fly, the stones roll.
And the stones roll right through
But each pane stays whole.