The steady drumming of the timpani
Guides him towards bar eight.
The conductor's stick waves into view,
He tries to concentrate.

The flutes trill out the leading note,
He enters on his own.
He wanted to show the audience
That in those years he'd grown.
But soon all thoughts flew from his head,
He was truly alone,
With only a violin, a bow and that
mature and soaring tone.

I can play a carnival,
I can play a stream.
I can play a gypsy dance,
I can play a dream.

I can play a graceful swan,
I can play a spring.
I can play a bumblebee,
All buzz and frantic wings.

I can play a ballade,
Or a song without words,
I can play a serenade,
The lullabies of birds.

I can play with passion,
Play my whole heart out,
The hunt, the rain, the snow, the doll,
The leaves, the moon, the trout.

I can play a masterpiece,
With slurs and trills and slides,
-But it’s not just about playing,
It’s about playing what’s inside.

Footnote: Recognise all the pieces mentioned? =)