Old Vienna

Like a moth drawn to a flame,
I always return to Vienna again,
Where first I glimpsed the day's bright light,
And life moves peacefully and quiet,
Where people waltz and idle
In some small cafes,
Or climb the nearby mountaintops
On bright and sunny days,
Then drink their wine
And linger in the evening glow,
Where Mozart, Haydn and Strauss
Dreamt music long ago,
And Freud, reflecting quietly,
Began the human soul to know,
There, at the Heurigen,
I eat my schnitzel with my beer
And sing with friends,
As the surroundings turn less clear,
While in the afternoon,
I through some old museums browse,
And in the evening, at the opera,
I listen to the Fledermaus,
Where I express myself quite freely,
Be it in word or song,
And no one ever asks me:
"What is your native tongue?"

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2006 Alfred Charasz