Before you read my poem, please keep in mind that it is not a rhyming poem. I really am horrible at rhyming, but I am hoping that this flows as well as the Ballad in G minor does. On the side, I’ve attached the ballad, as well as the cast in the story. This poem is based off “The Pianist” movie, not the book, because I haven’t read it. If you haven’t seen it, I recommend that you do, because it is a real tear-jerking and sweet tale of a Polish pianist who managed to escape a Warsaw Ghetto. Living alone, he manages to survive with the help of Wilm Hosenfeld, a German Nazi officer who was sympathetic with the Jews.
If you are prone to crying, I don’t suggest you watching it though. It IS very sad! This poem is written about a scene in the movie. A scene where the main character seriously looks like a cave man - he's been hiding in various houses and trying to scavenge food, when he meets this German Officer, who is sympathetic to the Jews and asks him what his profession is. When told he is a pianist, the officer (Wilm Hosenfeld) asks him to play something.
I used to, in my glory day,
Be shining white and black.
But now I stand alone,
Now old and gray.
I stand alone.
Never played, never loved.
No one gives a thought to an old piano.
But I’m not one to moan.
It never would have happened
Had not that couple gone away.
Moved, gone, forever gone.
What hands that used to run
Up my keys and down,
Are now, but lost and gone.
Oh, how I miss them so!
I wish that someone would play me.
Every once in a while, just now!
Please! Won’t someone listen to an old piano?
Oh, look now. The door’s opening.
What’s this? Boots? A uniform?
A man in boots and uniform.
A cave man and a jar.
“Bitte, etwas zu spielen, Wladyslaw Szpilman.” uniform says.
(Please, play something, Wladyslaw Szpilman)
The man sits down - oh, on that glorious stool!
His fingers touch the keys. He looks at me doubtfully.
But surely he will play me!
Uniform puts his hat on my top, then puts a hand on the side and waits.
Cave man hesitates, before he hesitantly presses a note.
He takes a breath, and then, his fingers have a mind of their own!
He plays Ballad No. 1 in G minor.
Oh what glory! Finally, to have someone play me!
I ring with the joyous melody, while uniform stands, transfixed.
When he’s done, I can feel the sound reverberating off the walls.
It’s such a joy to be played again!
Play another song! Play another song, oh great pianist.
But no, they’re walking away! Somehow I know,
My life will never be the same,
Now that I’ve been played again.