The dancers align 
All red birds with golden crests.

They twirl and bend and glide, like god’s own beam
If not for their red robes, they might well be swans.
The drums and violin join the stream.
A gentle melody in sight and sound like the summer dawns.

And slowly, the music profound
With the dancers beating the air.

Their rhythm fierce like the devil on fire,
Their eyes gleam with the flames of the heart.
High tide on full moon night match the joy they inspire
They twirl and bow with a final beat.