Symphony Fantastique

Off stage a cello plays alone.
A brown diminuendo fiercely drives
Forward the oboe's vulnerable crescendo,
While violins, seductively soothing as they are,
Enlighten, with silvery voices,
The frenetic power of orchestral thunder.


Littered with instructions, the score
Stretches the conductor's imagination.
Until, without warning, a quartet of discords
Goes off, a firecracker in the hand,
And then under the master’s influence
Youthful imagination runs riot.


Aggressive, upper strings dominate,
As the Dies Ire is sung and mocked,
Mingling horror with high jinks.
Suddenly the fiery blaze of Berlioz,
Switching into a Beethovian trajectory
Startles, then cedes with a devilish fugue.