Songs from his country’s remarkable past
I sat on the curb and I listened, transported,
So willingly under the spell that he cast
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyBcbQ6jXaCXHEIV2VIBtMKtTWR41LlLLbRkBenkFbKvCu2Pv5itYI0Tp52-2iJ2tAugRcr4ekhWRDS8M1a2vIgVbWCK5KuwooZdKJu6N-nsMOe4cjGQk4Tjjv-9vHHR8m4YpM/s200/piper1.jpg)
I’d been told that the man was a national treasure,
A world-class performer who played in the park
He’s there every day, or at least very nearly,
Performing his magic until it grows dark.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpGFaaKEoqicex1GrBI7NxS2iMyJyGk6ngya-OpPipVzqAFPI3R7zPH2yWIuBewLiC3qRfEMimMTT9wHYVPsSp4KvY4xMkQdLn_gaijXISsTqjKsu3KvsvvDOlnA6g1twfO8_8/s200/piper2.jpg)
He approached me and asked, though he barely spoke English,
“What would you hear today? Happy? Or sad?”
“Sad”, I replied; “I am leaving tomorrow;
I can’t hear a happy song, feeling so bad.”
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrBap5OavEO6CxPo1HtZzV1hyfIR4ttprOB55rZirAkBoBf7dyyo1lCEpHHl74eie2jDm_PHeqFF9wSM9d8a54ZfzOqrQkrpHd0ltF0W23fwvLEzcwG8822nHm1Q6Rcbj6qWar/s200/piper3.jpg)
He played me a song of a terrible story
An Ottoman soldier had chosen a bride—
A Bulgarian beauty, who so loved her country
She threw herself into the ocean and died
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1SBwNjqRR5V0_qWgsdSjcn77Jhk36QSGX-u8M1G715ZRMG7ytrLRPvIJHd4OYeJxkIydodw6ltapfMKj4y7fkSWiWaSyR107Urq9gWBJV0Ol9UbEK2Zr-_Vv45BBk_vUmHbXU/s200/piper4.jpg)
His pipes were enchanted, they shouted, they whispered,
At turns calm and peaceful, then wonderfully wild
They barked like a dog, and then sang like a lover,
They wailed like a mother who’s just lost a child.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB9UxutFwUcubCod4-YbNtdGH97NxiwNkJSRoJgQ486nH0eNwtkn6NQqfWdSxtJ9310jMOBZpoVJx4IjUWOLHpqG-0ZDUo9WwsPxwg1BvDbDTzflIeCL5eSrdhPuEjHIinQFyc/s200/piper5.jpg)
When he finished, we talked for another half hour;
I put all the money I had in his case
Then, late for a meeting, I turned and departed,
Appreciative teardrops still wet on my face
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwxSv9XcLHdE7VoYJ9578M393PsrXE0-J0QxWhpk8beCvx_O0DPYROrDiFHrs5zN7dpiR9PdbrnfbFAEnHfBoCjXmgsxwubjQLXMHuqlqgdXXXrw3VnFHPjJvq2HR5zJOftrD-/s200/piper6.jpg)
If ever you find yourself visiting Sofia—
Business, for pleasure, or just as a lark—
I love the whole city, but best in my memory,
The national treasure who plays in the park
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEd2sJu_3yv9c9jPmM10_ouK6ZpYPNasZ-PCOcnu3nJEoydpPaFgkaHC6DhfnWedXZOhHCdbUpTN8gW8ZABJEo2bTZqWXjg04znzecNAEpEUbQC0k0uMl1MjY0SQK7telVTqvz/s200/piper7.jpg)
4 comments:
Bravo.
wonderful
Thank you, all.
I couldn't say in the verse--after the song, when we had been talking for a bit, he suddenly said "this is what I would have played if you wanted happy", and launched into a lively rendition of "Jingle Bells". In July. While chasing two young women down the walkway.
Perfect.
That's awesome.
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