Tombe, tombe, feuille éphémère!
Voile aux yeux ce triste chemin,
Cache au désespoir de ma mère
La place où je serai demain …
It is a beautifully-wrought example of cultivated piano writing that could have come straight from the salons of mid-nineteenth-century Paris. After an unexpected outburst in the middle of the work, the central theme returns decorated with languorous demisemiquavers delicately evoking the falling leaves. This is among Gottschalk’s finest works.
from notes by Jeremy Nicholas © 1997
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