For a moment there was silence
As the storm it hesitated
And like the shadows in the room
On his next word it waited
As Beethoven tried to remember
The exact moment when he crossed the line
Did he lose his soul with one cruel act
Or with little ones that piled up in time?
Then Beethoven wondered
What one's soul was worth
Is the price the samе the day we die
As it is upon our birth?
Thеn he turned towards Fate
There was anger in his eyes
Could his present plight, upon this night
Be something she'd devised?
"Why did you deal me such a hand?
Was it all chance or was it planned?
And as throughout my life you toyed
Did you regret or just enjoy?"
Now, Fate was quite stunned
By this unexpected attack
But she never lost her flawless grace
As she gently replied back
"Mephistopheles has made you an offer
Now I will make one, too
Together we will go back through your life
And every act review
Together we will go through your years
This thing I can arrange
And anything that you wish me to
This very night I'll change"
Now, Beethoven thought, "Was this a trick?"
But a trick he could not see
So he did the only thing he could
Which was, to this new offer, he agreed
"Forgive my outburst" Beethoven said
"You take kindness to an art
I will gratefully accept your proposal
If you'll just tell me where we start"
"In looking back" Fate replied
"I see your youth was wild
But if one really wants to know the man
One has to know the child"
And with those words, the room around them
Did slowly fade away
Replaced with one from his distant past
Where, as a child, he had once played
And there he saw himself as a young child
Still a long way from the grave
Where anything was possible
And any dream could still be saved
He was sitting at a piano
But there was sorrow in his eyes
And no child's eyes should have sorrow
But the composer knew the reasons why
His teacher had just struck him
The mark was still clear upon his face
As were the tears that followed it
And whose path one could still trace
And somewhere in his deepest thoughts
The composer could still taste
The child was writing a melody
To distract himself from his pain
And the elder Beethoven watching this
Could not be restrained
He entered into the small room
And sat next to the child
Which startled the boy for a moment
Until the elderly gentleman smiled
Then he played the song the child was writing
And where the melody was rough
Beethoven added three small notes
But those notes, they were enough
So in the year of 1778
On a beautiful summer's day
To a young child's ears and an old man's fears
The Sixth Symphony was first played
[The child looks up in delight at the kind stranger who has helped him finish his song
Though unused to such acts of kindness from adults he quickly warms to the elderly man
And together they play, "The Pastoral Symphony."]

Fate then whispered from the darkness
That his time here was at an end
But as he was getting up to leave
The child asked would they ever meet again?