Russian Fairy Tale (A short prelude to Petrushka)

'Why are you a-bowing, slender mountain ash? Bending your head down to the very ground?'
Across the wide river, standing just as lonely, a tall oak waits for her.
'How can I, a rowan, reach that great oak tree? With my slender branches, I would press him tightly
And with our leaves twining, whisper daily, nightly.
Oh you dark autumn moon.
I have no father, I have no mother
No one to call my own.'
The little rowan cannot cross the river. It seems her fate is sealed:
Sway alone forever.
The moon listens and fills the night sky; her beams fall like snow.
The little rowan slowly, very slowly, floats across the water.

This fairytale accompanied an improvisation by pianist Joanna MacGregor at this year's Bath Music Festival.