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 the eaves of others. 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 being played. He went to the woods to pick wild fruits, but when he came home he was often empty, and he didn't pick a single wild fruit. He said: "Mom, there is music playing in the woods, eh! 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 branches whine. Once, while he was listening to something, he was seen by the supervisor. The overseer took off his belt and gave him a severe beating that he would never forget.
Everyone calls him Young Musician Yanko. When spring comes, he often goes to the river to make flutes. In the evening, frogs croaked, woodpeckers pecking at 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 Yanke kept holding on 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 once crept quietly past the haystack and climbed to the door of the pantry room. The door was open, and the violin hung on the wall facing the door. Yanko wanted to hold it in his hands, even once, so that he could at least have a clear look.
One evening, Yanke saw that there was no one in the pantry. He 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 was careful with every step he took, 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 Janko was brought to the housekeeper. The housekeeper glanced at Yanke, and the thin child's eyes widened in fear. What to do with him? Should he be punished as a thief? He is so young that he can barely stand. Does he need to be sent to prison? The housekeeper finally decided: "Let's give him a good beating."
The housekeeper found the watchman and said, "Take the child away and give him a good beating." The watchman nodded and picked up the Yanko, like a kitten, took him to a small wooden shed. Yanko 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 and took 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: "Ah, on the green grass..." The sound of flutes came from the creek. Yanko listened to the village music for the last time. The bark violin still lay beside him.
The young musician Yanke opened his eyes, but they no longer moved. The birch trees roared and howled above Yanko's head.