Beethoven is in his room deep in thought…he wears a saturnine mien. His brow riddled in agony but those hazel eyes still bear pure child-likeness.


O this anguish of soul though fleeting

Seems to me to last eternity.

Amidst gloomy and brooding thoughts wafting

Over my head, the Muses’ lofty

Cadences still weave their lucent magic.

Restored by the limpidity that now

Engulf me, a new opening has indeed

Been carved in my inmost being-

An oculus through which purest distillation

Of musical ideas emerge full-fledged

And forever uniting with Nature’s transcendent laws…

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