Fingertips roar down the keys
Like a horse galloping
On a wide stretched landscape
And it tells an old, fabled story
Of a composer who had once long lived

A lion boldly growls in his flame-girdled cave
And a blue jay chirps through the sun- stained sky
As ever so fiercely but gently
Those fearful fingertips caress the ivory keys

Audience, engrossed in this old fable
Listen to the words of the storyteller
Curiously and anxiously
Imagining about a young, brave lad
Climbing over the jagged rocks
To reach the high standing peaks

Applause is given
He wipes his beads of sweat
As crimson blood calmly flows in his veins
All his deeds done
He bows then steps off the stage
Thinking what old friendly fable to tell next