They glide in gorgeous motion
tonight's the night to dance
they've long anticipated
this grand ball of romance
The theme of the sonata
recurs in gold Versailles
As ladies in blue satin
delight the men nearby
The theme is grand and special
it hails from days of kings
when lords and ladies raptured
to Mozart's songs like wings
Then as the night grows older
the pendulum moves on
as tired feet and flowers
are crushed like worn chiffon
This special ball soon passes
into the mists of time
what's left but bitter memories
for soon destruction chimes
Those gowns are now just stories
a mother tells her young
with rough voice and sore fingers
she spins in mother tongue
But through the generations
the rondo plays again
repeating ever surely
the oft repeating strains
I hear that grand concerto
as it winds to its end
the rondo keeps repeating
Fair memories to blend.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem