Tune: Prelude of Nightingale Singing
Swan Lake Ballet
By William He
Frolicsome flights on strings and harps,
The Prince with the golden crown.
The wine-red hand,
The flute's endearing notes,
Of imitating flattering silhouettes and arcs.
Gliding along floor,
The poetic pixie piccolos,
Perfect continuum between explosion and still.
Feeling alone yet surrounded，
His life's real color hard to choose.
Graceful and costumed in white,
She glides and silently suffers,
Sheering away from images she dwells on.
Odette raising her arms,
Nimble as descending seraph,
A beauteous figure rises on the tip toes.
In the orchestra narrative,
He is pirouetting up and down.
Von Rothbart's sorcery,
Riding her eclipses of beauty.
Dance of the cygnets,
Pirouettes and high leaps,
Imbuing childhood dreams.
It is the magical coalition,
Like float comes the beau,
Beckoning the belle in amorous hue.
Coyly moving in hesitant grace,
They in a quick swift movement,
Sound likes a quaint orchestration,
Siegfried rising in a languid mood.
Gyrating to the strong beat,
Ground slips under their feet,
And the music is harmonizing to her Fouette,
Odile here and now,
Like nothing can separate them.
While weeping appears,
The lyre and violin start roaring,
Swan alone with a broken heart.
On Swan Lake he twirling around,
Marching in circles around the root,
Snow keeps monotoning tongue with him.
Velvety theme soothes,
A parable in the pathless shadow,
Light stream through parting clouds,
A pas de deux with infinite partners,
She behind the glow as a shooting star.
As butterfly wings their legs flutter,
And waft collinear paths behind them,
Should their souls from foreign broils keep free,
In dreams and in eyes,
They are cheering the weighted heart.
Scene finale moderato melodies and harmonies,
Oboe's rhythm in notes,
Through bright resonance flow.