By 40, tinnitus loudly ringing
him into brief rages, Beethoven failed
to perform his own concerto, bringing
a student to interpret all. When hailed
for his Ninth Symphony, vast applause fled
faint hearing, but greeted his tear-filled sight.
Undefeated when deaf, he turned instead
to writing conversation books, insights
flooding 400 volumes, word rhythms
forming sonatas of imagery,
how he perceived art, maestro’s psychic hymns
for history’s heart. Sloughing misery,
he composed till near the end, Late Quartets
including his Fourteenth: “my most perfect.”
Roger Armbrust
February 27, 2012
