This is an original fugue composed (using baroque counterpoint). It was inspired by the awe I felt while learning about composing music. Thanks to Jordan Klein and Professor Richard for all the wonderful lessons. Thanks to Mark Livshits for his excellent advice and beautiful piano playing.

Mark Livshits/pianist
https://www.facebook.com/MarkLivshitsPiano?fref=nf)

The distance between birth, death and eternity 
By Ellen Boscov (in awe of J. S. Bach)
          
The shortest distance between two points is
a straight line.
The Bachian distance between three points is
a line at the octave, the fifth, and the third; 
a line in contrary motion, augmentation and diminution;
a line leading a line, generated by a line, completing a line. 
The lines combine with contrapuntal design.
Played forward, backward, perpetually; 
the lines celebrate complexity:
the infinite possibility of space and time, 
the fertile face at the center of a sunflower, 
the intricate individuality of one flowing with others – 
the blood rises – 
the eyes open wide – 
the voice never dies. 



Awe of Learning Fugue

Original classical music and poem/lyrics by Ellen Boscov
Agne G- soprano 
Mark Livshits – piano 
Ezgi Yargici – cello 
Michele Kelly – flute 

Green Tree (poetry/lyrics - below)

I’m only a girl, 
not even a teen, not even.
I’m only a girl.  
The world below, I’m leavin’.
I’m only a girl. 

My body’s bones don’t need nothing
but sing and sing and sing
when I swing, 
kicking peaches off the green tree.

Don’t need my scary fat. 
Don’t need my fairy fuzz. 
Don’t need the swollen berries 
that bounce and bounce on me. 
Don’t need a mouth full of bumble bees. Don’t! 
Don’t need a mouth full of bumble bees. 

I’m only a girl, 
not even a teen, not even.
I’m only a girl. 
The world below, I’m leavin’.
I’m only a girl. 

You don’t want to know . . .
the tale of the child.
Plump as the summer, 
she is food to the giant 
who goes “Fee- fi- fo- fum.”
if I tell that one, 
you won’t hear me –
‘cause your ears will bleed and bleed. 
Beware of spilling the beans.

It’s better to be swinging, 
kicking peaches off the green tree . . .  
one, two, three hundred peaches. 

I’m only a girl, 
not even a teen, not even.
I’m only a girl. 
The world below, I’m leavin’.
The world below, I’m leavin’.
The world below, I’m leavin’.

I’m only a girl, soft and sweet. 
I’m only a girl, sick of sleep. 
I’m only a girl 
whose red-wicked sneakers 
keep kicking peaches 
till they’re dead with a secret, 
that I’ll never tell anyone.  

There’s still a trillion . . .  
there’s still a trillion . . .  
there’s still a trillion . . . 
dumb icky peaches 
on the green tree . . . 
on the green tree . . . 
on the green tree.







