Little musician Janko

Once upon a time there was a child in Poland named Janko. He was thin, with a dark face and flaxen hair that fell over his sparkling eyes.

Yanke’s mother is a day laborer. After today, she doesn’t know where she will be tomorrow, like a swallow living under someone else’s roof. Yanke became a shepherd boy at the age of eight.

Yanke loves music very much. No matter where he goes, he can always hear music. Sometimes he went to the woods to pick wild fruits. When he came home, his basket was often empty and he didn't pick a single wild fruit. He said: "Mom, there is music playing in the woods, 'Oh eh'! 'Oh eh'!..."

In the field, the bugs played for him; in the orchard, the sparrows sang for him. He listened attentively to all the sounds that could be heard in the countryside, thinking that they were all music. While stacking hay, he heard the wind making his wooden fork "whirr". Once, while he was listening to something, he was seen by the supervisor. The overseer took off his belt and gave him a beating he would never forget.

Everyone calls him Little Music Yanko. When the music came, he often ran to the river to make flutes. In the evening, frogs croaked, woodpeckers pecked at the tree trunks, and beetles buzzed. Yanko lay by the river and listened quietly.

Murakami’s watchman often saw Yanke quietly hiding under the corner of the country hotel and listening. Someone was dancing in the hotel. Sometimes there was the sound of feet hitting the floor, and sometimes there was the sound of girls singing. The violin played light and soft music, and the cello harmonized with a low tone. The lights were shining in the windows, and Yanko felt that every pillar in the hotel was trembling, singing, and playing.

How beautiful the violin sounds! If only he could have a violin, Yanke would be willing to exchange everything for it. As long as he touches it, even just once, he will be satisfied.

Yanke made a violin by himself using tree bark and horsehair, but no matter how he played it, it didn't sound as good as the violin in the hotel. Its voice is small, too small, like a mosquito humming. But he still held on to me all day long.

The landlord's servant had a violin, which he often played at dusk. How Yanko wanted to take a closer look at that violin! He quietly crawled over the haystack and climbed to the pantry door. The door was open and the violin was hung on the wall facing the door. Yanko longed to have it in his hands. Even if it's just once, it can at least let him see clearly.

One evening, there was no one in the pantry. Yanko hid behind the haystack, looking longingly through the open door at the violin hanging on the wall. He stared for a long time, he was afraid, he didn't dare to move, but there was an irresistible force pushing him forward, pushing his weak and thin body to move quietly towards the door.

Yanke has already entered the pantry room. He took every step with great care, but fear gripped him tighter and tighter. Behind the haystack, he felt as at home as at home, but here, he felt like a small animal that had broken into a cage. The night was eerily quiet, and the moonlight just happened to shine on Yanke. Yanko knelt in front of the violin, raised his head, and looked at his beloved violin.

After a while, there was a slight miserable sound in the darkness, and Yanke accidentally touched the strings. Suddenly, a sleepy voice in the corner of the room asked rudely: "Who is there?" Yanke held his breath. Someone struck a match and the candle lit up. Later, I heard scolding, whipping, children crying, shouting, and dogs barking. Candlelight flickered in the windows, and the yard was noisy.

The next day, poor Yanke was brought to the housekeeper. The housekeeper glanced at Yanke, and the thin child opened his eyes wide with fear. What to do with him? Should he be punished as a thief? The child is so young that he can barely stand still. Does he still need to be sent to prison? The housekeeper finally decided: "Let's give him a good beating."

The housekeeper found the watchman and said to him: "Take him and give him a good beating." The watchman nodded and picked up the Yanko, like a kitten, took him to a small wooden shed.

The child didn't say a word. Maybe he was frightened. He just stared like a caught bird. How could he know what others wanted to do to him?

Janke received a beating. His mother came. Take him home. The next day, he didn't get up. On the evening of the third day, he was dying.

Janko was lying on the bench. There is a cherry tree in front of the house, and the swallows are singing in the tree. The girls came back from the fields, singing all the way: "Ah, on the green grass..." The sound of flutes came from the creek. Janko listened to the village music for the last time. The bark violin still lay beside him.

The young musician Yanke opened his eyes, but his eyes were no longer moving. The birch trees were roaring and howling above Yanke's head.