The curtain rose, revealed the obscene scene
Of lovers ungauged by passions enraged.
A head goes down in haste to taste the Queen.
The women sing. Sweet harmonies cascade,
Into lustful grating cadence of sound
Until silenced by a lingering kiss.
The strings take up the tension, and astound
The voyeurs gaping at the lovers’ bliss.
The words they sing, hidden in music’s flow,
Fly past us, like a morality lost.
In this moment, only the lovers know
The reason behind this lesbian cost.
Now we see the trousers are on a boy!
His cousin’s matronly mounds, were his joy.
Image – Opera North’s production of Strauss’s Der Rosenkavalier (2016). Ylva Kihlberg as The Marschallin (left) and Helen Sherman as Octavian
Photo Credit: Robert Workman and Opera North