It’s a poem about solitude in a night of early winter, and that’s what the music tries to render:
a dark, windy night where the stars have fear and everybody, even the squirrels, remains at home.
A housewife on her rocking chair feels the absence of her husband a little less bitter than in May,
but anyway, she’s still looking at the empty sofa in this dark, wide night.
Printed score and digital score are prepared. Please choose one below.