If I could rise into the sky like the sun,
I would eternally hover near your head only --
Not around the forests, not around the fields,
Only by your window would I hover eternally.
S. Witwicki
I don't know if the maiden is wishing to be the one hovering eternally, or hoping to be the receptor of such passion. Either way, the message (and Chopin's interpretation) is both beautiful and disturbing. It's like a fairy tale, told and retold until it no longer carries the same message. Or, maybe it's that the message is no longer relevant. All I know is that when I listen to the piece and read the poem, I want to weep. It's not out of any intense identification with the writing, but because of everything we're taught and everything we simply can't have. It makes me want to say "I'm sorry." I really have no idea what I'm apologizing for, and maybe that makes it worse.
