Look at me, dear...

Look at me, dear...

Not at my skin, it is too old.

Not at the colors, they are too dull.

No need to touch, cause I haven't sung for long,

Those preludes, nocturnes, mazurkas, and waltzes.
 

He's long gone, my old master,

I can still feel his delicate fingers.

He's long gone, but I am still here.

Now look at me, dear, and tell me what you hear?