Csárdás Monti

The virtuoso's eyes are firmly closed,
no need to see the notes he knows by heart.
The bow takes flight, raw fingers, unopposed,
life of their own, each chooses where to dart,
as Csárdás, oh sweet Csárdás fills the air,
and picks up pace, smiles break out in the stands.
And as you follow, the composer's flare
astonishes, how do the metal strands
not set the bow on fire? How can man
even come close to Monti's breakneck pace,
and do it with such joy, how can his plan
defined in these majestic notes that race
each other in a frantic, splendid dance,
how can it be? Just listen. Here's your chance

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fuJvPwsGAA