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Ludwig Von Beethoven's Return to Vienna

So when my proud city spread

her gypsy skirts, I reentered;

she burned a greater, constant light.

Call me rough, ill-tempered, slovenly–– I tell you,

every tenderness I have ever known

has been nothing

but thwarted violence, an ache

so permanent and deep, the lightest touch

awakens it –– it is impossible

to care enough. I have returned

with a second Symphony

and 15 Piano Variations

which I've named Prometheus,

after the rogue Titan, the half-a-god

who knew the worst sin is to take

what cannot be given back.

I smile and bow, and the world is loud.

And though I dare not lean in to shout

Can't you see that I'm deaf? ––

I also cannot stop listening.

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