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letra de what you speak of - neil klein, avery l. ingvarson

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[rembrandt]
march 25, 1896

[bb]
it is almost summer. the almonds are already passing and the peach and pear blossoms are in glory. the air is sweet with the perfume of wall flowers and of the gardenias, lilac, and wisteria coming out

[degas]
april 12

[bb]
summer is upon us with its sorcery, and yet spring is still tender. the lilac is out and intoxicating, the pear blossoms in their virginal white and the apple with its soft suffusions of pink symphonize into exquisite harmonies

[vermeer]
april 25

[isabella]
in two days i move to brookline, where i live with the birds and the flowers. everything is jumping into life. when do you leave fiesole and where do you go? i wish i could talk to you

[bb]
summer is sweet
birds sing where i am too
the green leaves
lend their richness to you

flowers bloom while i journey but
only dreams lead me to you
dreams of botticelli, of rembrandt
of your garden get me through
[manet]
august 28

[bb]
ah, scotland! it is a dream of glamour and magic which i hope to dream often again. i have seen no land more lovely

[rembrandt]
september 19

[isabella]
dear berenson
your letters are delightful always. they make me want to do and see what you speak of

[bb]
you are delightful
my dear friend
bella, sweetness of your name
rests on my lips and my pen

writing to you
puts my mind to romance
cannot wish for more
so i write about spring advanced

[degas]
february 13, 1897
[bb]
i speak of winter and it is spring advanced. the almonds have been in rich bloom for more than ten days, and the daffodils and anemones all out

[isabella]
i feel you close
when you send a letter
the whisper of love
beneath words on weather

i want to do and see what you speak of
i want to do and see what you speak of

[rembrandt]
february 25

[isabella]
i have cherry twigs hanging over my writing table that are just coming into flower, although it is bleak and dreary outside

[bb]
it is spring and enchanting. a couple of days ago i walked into the mountains, smelled the fresh earth, and green of the forest

[isabella]
here i am again, in this beautiful brookline. some day you must come and sit in my garden

[bb]
when i sit in your garden
what would we do?
paper is one thing, skin on skin is another
can i suggest a flower or two?
someone said recently that i am a master
of italian art through and through
how can i master art when
in art i see you?

[bb]
let me find a note from you telling me where you are and when i may come to see you. of course, i want to see you as much as possible and it will be delightful to see things together. there is plenty

[isabella]
i wish you could see the room full of all sorts of flowers that friends have offered

[bb]
do you know
i can’t say
i want to do and see what you speak of
‘cause my heart exists but not to speak of
[bb (cont)]
the weather has changed for the worst after many days of sunshine so bright and warm that you could not believe it would ever end, and moonlight so bright that on the skyline it glowed with soft rainbow hues

[isabella]
i want to do and see as you speak of

[bb]
now as it never rains but always pours

[isabella]
i want to do and see as you speak of

windows open, as if spring were here

[bb]
spring should be painted
primavera captured
look at the flowers blooming
as the icicles all shatter

[isabella]
your word of spring makes me weep. we are snowbound here

[bb]
it is a day worthy of the season. of course summer is here, like love full grown. the green is so fresh and abundant, and every color of flower and blossom painted upon it

[isabella]
the feeling of spring is over the land – but we do have our terrible wind and dust all the same. come across the seas, and lie on your back under the cherry blossoms – do. there is no dust or wind at brookline

[isabella]
i want to do and see what you speak of

[bb]
do you know?

[isabella/bb]
i want to do and see what you speak of

[isabella]
do you know?

[isabella/bb]
i want to do and see what you speak of
i want to do and see what you speak of

[bb]
dear mrs gardner
in the springtime, a young man’s fancies lightly turn to thoughts of love, they say

it is spring

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