Trafika Europe 4 - Armenian Rhapsody

T

here’s something on top of the mountain, I won’t tell what it is . . . There’s something on top of the mountain, I won’t tell what it is . . .

I touched my head, tousled my hair; there was nothing. She continued laughing. The child’s voice rang out in the valley.

“There’s nothing. You’re lying.”

“Yes, there is. I’m not.”

“Then, what’s that?”

“I won’t tell you . . . You have to guess. There’s something on top of the mountain, I won’t tell what it is . . .”

I rushed and caught her, held her firmly, and we rolled on the grass. She laughed and her giggling deafened me.

“I won’t tell . . . I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

“No, I won’t.”

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