The following poem is about karma. Karma in this case is playing the piano. About doing your karma, no matter what the current circumstances are. It echoes the sentiments of "Walk Alone" by Rabindranath Tagore, and "Let me have the courage to fight" by Guru Gobind Singh, and the key message from the Bhagwad Gita. Keep singing, no matter what the circumstances!
Poet, be seated at the piano.
Play the present, its hoo-hoo-hoo,
Its shoo-shoo-shoo, its ric-a-nic,
Its envious cachinnation.
If they throw stones upon the roof
While you practice arpeggios,
It is because they carry down the stairs
A body in rags.
Be seated at the piano.
That lucid souvenir of the past,
The divertimento;
That airy dream of the future,
The unclouded concerto . . .
The snow is falling.
Strike the piercing chord.
Be thou the voice,
Not you. Be thou, be thou
The voice of angry fear,
The voice of this besieging pain.
Be thou that wintry sound
As of a great wind howling,
By which sorrow is released,
Dismissed, absolved
In a starry placating.
We may return to Mozart.
He was young, and we, we are old.
The snow is falling
And the streets are full of cries.
Be seated, thou.
Mozart, 1935
by Wallace StevensPoet, be seated at the piano.
Play the present, its hoo-hoo-hoo,
Its shoo-shoo-shoo, its ric-a-nic,
Its envious cachinnation.
If they throw stones upon the roof
While you practice arpeggios,
It is because they carry down the stairs
A body in rags.
Be seated at the piano.
That lucid souvenir of the past,
The divertimento;
That airy dream of the future,
The unclouded concerto . . .
The snow is falling.
Strike the piercing chord.
Be thou the voice,
Not you. Be thou, be thou
The voice of angry fear,
The voice of this besieging pain.
Be thou that wintry sound
As of a great wind howling,
By which sorrow is released,
Dismissed, absolved
In a starry placating.
We may return to Mozart.
He was young, and we, we are old.
The snow is falling
And the streets are full of cries.
Be seated, thou.
I love how Stevens urges use poets to stop escaping into the past’s elegance or the future’s fantasies and instead “be the voice” of the present’s fear and pain. The commands (“Be seated… Strike the piercing chord… Be thou the voice”) define vocation as service: to channel the era’s harsh music and transform sorrow into something released and “absolved.” It’s not purpose as self-fulfillment; it’s purpose as witnessing—an impersonal “thou” tasked with making a clear, necessary sound equal to the world’s cries.
This poem also reminds me of Guru Nanak's words about being seated: "I can only hear if someone sits to sing." If they are not seated in the present, how can they even sing, and if they can't sing, how can you even hear?
Singing oneness!
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