Old men have bad dreams, So they sleep little. They walk on bare feet Without turning on the lights, Or they stand leaning On gloomy furniture Listening to their hearts beat.
The one window across the room Is black like a blackboard. Every old man is alone In this classroom, squinting At that fine chalk line That divides being-here From being-here-no-more.
No matter. It was a glass of water They were going to get, But not just yet. They listen for mice in the walls, A car passing on the street, Their dead fathers shuffling past them On their way to the kitchen.
Charles Simic
At the FUBiS program in Berlin in the summer of 2014, our teacher Samuel Adler asked each of the program participant to write a song. I chose Charles Simic's "Greyheaded Schoolchildren."
Dr. Adler, when I showed him the poem at the first lesson, said, "It's a sad poem... especially for me." He then instructed me to write three piano introductions to the song. I picked the first, quiet lonely notes at the ends of the range of the piano, and went on to set the poem somewhat ironically and quite dramatically.
I hope that one day this song becomes one in a set of Simic settings.