Soft crux of the foyer, sunken
in the wet smoke drained through the stunned lips
of the audience
Young boys became adults … tough stuff,
confirming their value on the stage
From the single spot of light scorching,
Bebop was born like a feral beast,
leaving no gasp for the eyes and the essence
behind darkness;
squeezing their old beliefs in a bottle –
thrown on the sea of oblivion

Waning pirouettes of the hot ladies
were lost in the past time
Old jazzy clothes were forgotten
in the coffin, by the classics

Bebop was running faster
than the noise of a thought

Now, the real masters broke their pianos,
crush their sensations in the trembling legs,
fast rhythms twist their heads like a saxophone
The shaman spirit of Bebop possesses their being
with a drum incantation to the ultimate levels of music

They are the track of a hurricane
on the territory of a silent audience