Look at me— I can dance. Can you hear them praising me? “How light she is, how soft she is— as though a sylph had drifted in upon the summer wind.” Look at me— I can dance. Will you keep your eyes on me? Whenever I can feel your gaze, I think I spin one turn more than yesterday. And with each turning step, there comes the scent of lilies, sweet and strangely distant. Mother says she worries for me— my body is too weak. But I want to dance. For when I dance, I feel alive. Each time I hold an arabesque, each time I turn in piqué— some quiet joy inside my soul comes overflowing into light. And every time I feel your gentle eyes upon me, I find the strength to rise once more onto my toes. Look at me— I can dance. Will you watch me a little longer? Watch me dancing. Watch me living. Please— keep looking at me. For while your eyes remain on me, I feel that I can still go on living.
