Out of the gate, just beyond the doorstep, I met my flower-eyed Pearl Gyusi one morning just outside Tiny Dog's castle.
- Where are you going, uncle? - he asks me.
- In small snow, in big mud, I'm going to the fair - I tell him.
It was certainly to my loss, for my Pearl Gyuszi was soon in me, like a dawning blossom in a fountain.
- Uncle, bring me some nice ongora from that fair. Bring me one like Pannika's doll, which makes a great noise even when it is a little bumped.
- "Oh, my friend," I caressed her blonde hair peeking out from under her fur hat, "ongora is not music for the poor.
- What is there for the poor man, uncle?
- Violin.
The violin had not yet played, but Gyuszi Gyöngyöm Gyuszi was already dancing.
- Oh, uncle, that will be the only real music! It has a bow, hasn't it? Well, bring me a violin, uncle!
Well, you didn't have to go far to get the violin, just go back to the kitchen, ask the Etel maid to bring out the sorghum broom, take out the little knife, cut two strands of the sorghum broom, and the brand new violin was ready.
And that's with a bow.
- Which is his trait? - inquired suspiciously, my bigey-eyed little friend.
- Which one is your bow?", I was a little confused. - His bow is always the one you pull from the top. It's a different violin from the others precisely because it doesn't matter whether you pull the violin on the bow or the bow on the violin.
Even now, Gyuszi the Pearl was not sure whether to laugh or cry.
- Why is this violin better than the others, uncle? Is there any other kind of violin? What kind of violin is this, uncle?
- This is the real sorghum fiddle. This is the one the fairies use to sing the song of the no-man's-land to King Neveninch in the land of Seholsincs.
Well, Gyuszi calmed down and made peace. Especially when he pulled the two sorghum stems together and heard how beautiful they sounded. It sounded so beautiful that it made all my thirty-two teeth dance. And I carried the skin away with all my speed, even from the region of the violin's beautiful sound.
Well, as soon as I get home at noon, I hear the beautiful music at the gate. I look around, because I don't see Gyuszi's golden hair flashing anywhere. Well, baby Ili is sitting on the doorstep, having fun with a real sorghum fiddle.
- Hey, Ili baby - I pinch her round face red - where did you get this fairy violin?
- "I swapped her with Gyuszika," confessed baby Ili, very frightened, and the clown also crawled in. She was afraid that I was about to take the violin back.
As I reach the top of the stairs, Mici the kitten runs past me, meowing ferociously. Her eyes are burning like embers, her beautiful white fur on fire. Hey, mouse and his tail, who hurt this poor pair?
Nobody hurt him, he was just bored with his life because Gyuszika had been howling on that reed bed since morning, because Ili had given him the sorghum violin for her baby.
I've howled too, but it's no use. You couldn't understand the beautiful music there. Even in my afternoon sleep, it was like a sharp reed being split in my ear. I woke up from my sweetest dream to see Gyuszi whistling on one doorstep, baby Ili playing the violin on the other, and Mici on the roof shouting, "Oh, how beautiful it is!
I left home soon afterwards, and pulled Gyuszi's collar as a farewell.
- Oh, how I'd love it if you'd swap the reed pipe with someone by the time I get home!
And Gyuszi is not a child who doesn't try to please his uncle. He gave the reed pipe to him for a pear-shaped music. And as I came home for lunch, the violin was tinkling, the whistle was screaming, the pear music was shrieking, Mici was meowing, Pici was howling, and suddenly the fireman's trumpet was blaring under our window. The passers-by thought we had a fire, that's why we had that big band, and they sent the firemen to help us.
That's how it is when a poor man's child loves beautiful music so much. For those who can do better than that, I'll carve pumpkin sardines this summer.
