Amor mi fai danzar

The symphonia on my knees,

Keys singing Machaut under my fingers.

The old song had lingered

On parchment for six hundred years,

I sent back, played it awake.

Eased the sound over the crowd

That hovered in the air,

And held them there.

I said: This dance comes to us

From medieval Italy, a long way,

The Salterello means a Jumping Dance.

If there's anyone here from Italy,

Or somewhere else,

Inclined to jump as I play,

Please do.

The dance sprang to be heard,

Like the first flower of May,

First passerose,

The children clustered

Around the stage like a garden.

I bent my head low,

Listening for the sound

And threw it back.

At the first puncta, gaining speed,

My fingers curved like oil over water.

Then I looked over

Where the sound unfurls like light;

There, my twin angels,

She dark-curled, he close-cropped blond,

And neither more than four years old,

Were bouncing up and down like reeds,

Drinking in the light,

And when they knew I saw,

They jumped up farther,

Higher than before,

Shouting to me:

Amor mi fai danzar.