Waiting for the Piano
by Richard W. Halperin
Years ago a neighbour Nicole, who was a
pillar of support after the death of my wife,
drove me one evening to the countryside house
of friends of hers, so that we could participate
in a sort of hommage to Chopin. We and
others were shown into a large candlelit room
on the walls of which, for just this evening,
were copies of Chopin’s letters.
Our host played the piano, and during
the intervals, his daughter read from the letters.
Several were those he wrote from Mallorca,
where he and George Sand had gone
in hopes that its beauty and warmth
(but it rained and rained) would improve
his health. He arrived looking forward
to completing his Preludes. But neither
where he was staying nor nearby was there
a piano. So, an urgent letter to Pleyel.
Then for the next two months, letter
after letter to Pleyel and to other friends:
‘Where is my piano?’ ‘Where is the boat?’
‘All George needs is paper. I need a piano.’
But he didn’t need a piano. He began
composing out of the nothing which is
everything. When the piano was finally
delivered, he took only two weeks more
to complete the entire work. I think of this
on Christmas Eve, 2025. I think of
the kindness of Nicole, who died
shortly after the Chopin evening.
I look across the courtyard at what used
to be her flat and there she always isn’t.
As Chopin, shortly after Mallorca, wasn’t.
But the Preludes are. Prelude means
the unknown is to follow.
Richard W. Halperin, born in Chicago in 1943, holds U.S.-Irish dual nationality and lives in Paris. His work is part of University College Dublin’s Irish Poetry Reading Archive. He holds a Ph.D. in English Literature, 1969, obtained under the mentorship of Sears R. Jayne from The City University of New York. After retirement in 2005 from a career in humanitarian education administration in New York and at UNESCO, he began sending poems around, over 600 of which have appeared in magazines and journals mainly in Ireland and the UK. He has seen five collections published by Salmon/Cliffs of Moher and twenty shorter collections published by Lapwing/Ballyhalbert. The poem ‘Now, Mother, What’s the Matter? from his most recent Salmon All the Tattered Stars: Selected & New Poems was Poem of the Week in The Guardian, January 19. Many of his readings are on the internet.