One year, we went to Interlocken
to hear a contest, to hear some dreams
Of young pianists, striving
To be the best they could
One played flawlessly, perfectly
We thought "How perfect, the winner"
No doubt he was perfect in form and structure.
Then a little Chinese girl came up
She knew he was "better"
That 2nd place means being
the first loser.
But she played her heart into her notes
She slipped, a note went clanging, for a moment, then died
and she played in silence,
and we sat in awe
And we she stood
we stood with tears in our eyes
and shouted "Brava, Brava, Brava"
And gave her the prize.