'The Organ Grinder'

Just beyond the village
an organ grinder stands,
and he turns the handle
with his frozen hands.
Barefoot on the ice
He shuffles on his way.
Not a single penny
In his empty tray.
No one wants to hear him,
No one looks his way,
Dogs snarl round the old man,
No heed does he pay.
And he lets it happen
As it always will.
He just goes on playing,
Never is he still.
Curious old fellow,
Shall I go along?
Will you play your organ
Only to my song?
Taken from the Song Cycle “Winterreise”

Music by Franz Schubert (1797-1828)
Poems by Wilhelm Müller (1794-1827)

To view the works of Matthias Schaller please click here

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