Trafika Europe 7 - Ukrainian Prayer

Sofia Andrukhovych

yet begun to sprout on his face. You feel like pinching him. This is what I whispered to Adela when he came out to the hall for the first bow— and she rolled her eyes and painfully jabbedme in the ribs with her deft sharp elbow. But then, when this child touched with his waxy flexible fingers the toothy maw of the piano, I became ashamed. First he played Mozart, Gluck, and Hummel, only then Chopin’s waltzes and Fantasie-Impromptu— and I felt so ill, so out of sorts because of those sounds, as if I had no right to be there and hear them: I, so insignificant, and they, far too beautiful. Oh no, now it was not so funny for me that at the age of seven Raoul Koczalski won the prize of the Paris Music Academy, that at the age of eight he wrote his

first opera, that at the age of eleven he played his one thousandth recital, and at the age of twelve performed in front of Naser al-Din, the shah of Persia, who before his death from the hands of the assassins had the opportunity to delight in the boy’s talent and even bestow on him the title of Court Pianist and decorate himwith the Order of the Lion and the Sun. The sultan of Turkey and the king of Spain also granted the child honorific titles. And how could I now sit so close to him, this chubby blond Lion and Sun, and listen to his music? There are far, far too many holidays during the winter season. When I served breakfast early this morning, Petro said, “Our help is so intellectual. I wouldn’t be surprised if

52