The dance is like salt And full of creations Of darkness and fear, That ought to destroy Like Helen of Troy, Whom nobody hears.
You listen to Draw In silence of Aeon. It’s doomsday premiere, You perish from hoe.
And every of dance step, The step that you take Is ultimate flame, like sharpest of stones.
Beethoven lives and expresses the whole Truth to believe, that the dance will go on.
Cause dance’s like pain, it’s the earthquake of soul.