Will lightning strike through the drawing room ceiling?
Gazing upward in solemn supplication, he
Lets his hands fall casually to the keyboard,
Dishevelled head motionless, in suspense,
As the haughty philistines wait to be entertained,
To have their luxurious expectations fulfilled.
Those stern white hands tease across the keys,
Trembling into a numinous prelude...
Abruptly the maestro starts to his feet,
Bangs the piano lid shut with imperious flourish-
No! The bear will not dance tonight!
In his rooms Liszt paces back and forth...
Too many years performing for idiots,
Titillating with idle brilliance,
When he should give himself to solitude and creation,
Abandon vanity’s charavari...
Like a jockey on an Arab mare,he jumps the piano,
Daredevil storming the atmosphere,
His galloping fingers an entire orchestra,
Hurtling into the abyss.
Genteel ladies’ faces boggle with rapture,
Electricity jolting them out of their seats,
Hoisting their skirts over their heads.
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