My most neurotic Parsifal,
Chosen without a clue.
He neuterized his tenor voice,
Forgot what males might do.
How could I, his Mary Magdalene
Seduce this Holy Fool?
That night he gave and would not take,
The femme fatale his tool.
Never enthralled by his own voice,
What chance had flower maids!
Redemption was his purposed task,
The spear which he conveyed.
{The music ruminates on its redemptive power.}
We were the music makers,
Lucky dreamers dreaming dreams.
We truly thought him Parsifal,
He was—or so it seems.
