🌙Alfatar Tale of the Wondrous Maiden — Part 1 (read & listen)

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V6-WILD

🎧 I recommend listening with headphones!
––
You can find the Bulgarian and Russian translations of this new musical tale, along with its video and many other tales, on my new website:

www.solaria-gallery.com/tales/

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌙🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

Part 1. The Enchanted Glade

Long ago, in the large Dobrujan village of Alfatar, there lived a young man who had loved music since childhood. Whenever he played the gadulka his father had given him, he forgot the world around him. He played at village feasts, weddings and gatherings, and when he was alone, he liked to invent melodies of his own.

One summer day his father sent him to a nearby village to sell some goods. Trade went well, and by evening he was on his way home with a purse of gold coins tied safely to his belt. The day had been hot, the road was long, and the sun was already sinking. When he reached a forest, he decided to take a shortcut through it and get back to Alfatar sooner.

He turned onto a narrow path, took out his gadulka and began to play. At first it was a familiar Dobrujan tune, but soon a few new notes came to him. He repeated them, changed the rhythm, and before long was shaping a melody he had never played before. So absorbed was he that he failed to notice the sun disappear behind the trees.
Just as he was about to put the instrument away, another music reached him from deep in the forest. At first it was so faint he thought he imagined it. Then he recognized the soft voice of a kaval. Yet he had never heard a kaval like this. The melody flowed slowly and wistfully, then suddenly leapt into a playful dance, as though the wind itself were playing among the branches.

Curiosity overcame his wish to reach home before dark. He left the path and followed the sound through the bushes. The deeper he went, the clearer the music became. At last he saw a silver glow between the trees. He pushed through the final branches and found himself looking upon a small glade flooded with moonlight.

Three wondrously beautiful maidens were dancing there. They wore long white shirts with narrow sleeves, slim belts and bright aprons. Small white flowers crowned their hair. One wore a yellow ribbon, one a red ribbon, and the third an orange one. Barefoot, they moved so lightly across the grass that the young man almost expected them to rise into the air.

But the strangest thing was that there was no musician beside them. A wooden kaval floated above the grass, playing all by itself. From it poured a lively tune for the maidens’ graceful horo. Fireflies flickered around them, while beyond the dark trees the moon lit tall white cliffs.

The young man hid behind a bush and held his breath. He had never seen such beauty. Again and again his gaze returned to the maiden with the orange ribbon. She had pale green eyes and such a lovely smile that his breath caught whenever she turned toward him. Suddenly she seemed to sense that she was being watched. She looked straight toward the bushes, and their eyes met. He crouched lower, but the maiden only smiled and went on dancing.

Then something inexplicable happened. Without knowing why, he reached for his gadulka and set the bow to the strings. A strange melody came from the instrument and wove itself into the music of the enchanted kaval. His fingers found the notes by themselves; the bow seemed to move of its own accord. He listened in amazement to the music coming from his own hands. Never had he played like this, and he could not understand how he knew the tune.

The three maidens stopped, glanced at one another and burst into laughter. The girl with the orange ribbon ran toward him. Before he could hide or make an excuse, she took his hand and drew him into the glade. The other two teased him for watching them in secret, while the kaval, as if delighted to have found a companion, began to play even more merrily.

His shyness vanished as soon as he lifted the bow again. Gadulka and kaval answered one another in wonderful melodies while the maidens danced hand in hand. Their white garments swirled and their ribbons traced bright circles in the night. They moved close to him, then away to the far edge of the glade, and back again with light dancing steps.
The maiden with the orange ribbon came nearest most often. She looked into his eyes and smiled as though they had known each other for years. Once she even stopped to ask whether he was tired, but he shook his head and kept playing. The more he watched her, the more he wished the night would never end.

Hours passed unnoticed. The moon rose high and then slowly began to sink toward the distant cliffs, but the dance went on. The music grew faster, the maidens more absorbed, and the young man could barely feel his fingers. His arms ached, sweat covered his brow, and darkness sometimes swam before his eyes, yet whenever he thought of stopping, the kaval began another tune and carried him away again.

What he remembered most clearly was the maiden with the orange ribbon coming close to him. Moonlight shone on her face, and her eyes sparkled with laughter. She said something; he laughed and answered, but after that his memories blurred. He remembered white garments, whirling dancers and music that seemed to come from everywhere. At last his strength failed and everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes, sunlight was already filtering through the branches. He was lying in the grass on the same glade, with birds singing around him. Slowly he remembered the forest, the enchanted kaval and the three beautiful maidens. Yet there was no trace of them. Even the grass was uncrushed, as though no one had danced there during the night.

He reached for his gadulka and stared in disbelief: its strings were broken. Then he remembered the purse at his belt. It was still tied there, but when he opened it, not a single gold coin remained.

For a long time he sat in the grass, trying to understand. Had it all been a dream, or had he truly played for a samodiva dance? Had the strange maidens enchanted him and taken his gold? He did not know whether to mourn the lost money or rejoice that he had lived through the most wonderful night of his life.

At last he picked up the gadulka, slung his bag over his shoulder and set off for Alfatar. Yet he could not drive from his thoughts the wondrous maiden with the orange ribbon and pale green eyes.

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🎧 I recommend listening with headphones! –– You can find the Bulgarian and Russian translations of this new musical tale, along with its video and many other tales, on my new website: www.solaria-gallery.com/tales/ 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🌙🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟 Part 1. The Enchanted Glade Long ago, in the large Dobrujan village of Alfatar, there lived a young man who had loved music since childhood. Whenever he played the gadulka his father had given him, he forgot the world around him. He played at village feasts, weddings and gatherings, and when he was alone, he liked to invent melodies of his own. One summer day his father sent him to a nearby village to sell some goods. Trade went well, and by evening he was on his way home with a purse of gold coins tied safely to his belt. The day had been hot, the road was long, and the sun was already sinking. When he reached a forest, he decided to take a shortcut through it and get back to Alfatar sooner. He turned onto a narrow path, took out his gadulka and began to play. At first it was a familiar Dobrujan tune, but soon a few new notes came to him. He repeated them, changed the rhythm, and before long was shaping a melody he had never played before. So absorbed was he that he failed to notice the sun disappear behind the trees. Just as he was about to put the instrument away, another music reached him from deep in the forest. At first it was so faint he thought he imagined it. Then he recognized the soft voice of a kaval. Yet he had never heard a kaval like this. The melody flowed slowly and wistfully, then suddenly leapt into a playful dance, as though the wind itself were playing among the branches. Curiosity overcame his wish to reach home before dark. He left the path and followed the sound through the bushes. The deeper he went, the clearer the music became. At last he saw a silver glow between the trees. He pushed through the final branches and found himself looking upon a small glade flooded with moonlight. Three wondrously beautiful maidens were dancing there. They wore long white shirts with narrow sleeves, slim belts and bright aprons. Small white flowers crowned their hair. One wore a yellow ribbon, one a red ribbon, and the third an orange one. Barefoot, they moved so lightly across the grass that the young man almost expected them to rise into the air. But the strangest thing was that there was no musician beside them. A wooden kaval floated above the grass, playing all by itself. From it poured a lively tune for the maidens’ graceful horo. Fireflies flickered around them, while beyond the dark trees the moon lit tall white cliffs. The young man hid behind a bush and held his breath. He had never seen such beauty. Again and again his gaze returned to the maiden with the orange ribbon. She had pale green eyes and such a lovely smile that his breath caught whenever she turned toward him. Suddenly she seemed to sense that she was being watched. She looked straight toward the bushes, and their eyes met. He crouched lower, but the maiden only smiled and went on dancing. Then something inexplicable happened. Without knowing why, he reached for his gadulka and set the bow to the strings. A strange melody came from the instrument and wove itself into the music of the enchanted kaval. His fingers found the notes by themselves; the bow seemed to move of its own accord. He listened in amazement to the music coming from his own hands. Never had he played like this, and he could not understand how he knew the tune. The three maidens stopped, glanced at one another and burst into laughter. The girl with the orange ribbon ran toward him. Before he could hide or make an excuse, she took his hand and drew him into the glade. The other two teased him for watching them in secret, while the kaval, as if delighted to have found a companion, began to play even more merrily. His shyness vanished as soon as he lifted the bow again. Gadulka and kaval answered one another in wonderful melodies while the maidens danced hand in hand. Their white garments swirled and their ribbons traced bright circles in the night. They moved close to him, then away to the far edge of the glade, and back again with light dancing steps. The maiden with the orange ribbon came nearest most often. She looked into his eyes and smiled as though they had known each other for years. Once she even stopped to ask whether he was tired, but he shook his head and kept playing. The more he watched her, the more he wished the night would never end. Hours passed unnoticed. The moon rose high and then slowly began to sink toward the distant cliffs, but the dance went on. The music grew faster, the maidens more absorbed, and the young man could barely feel his fingers. His arms ached, sweat covered his brow, and darkness sometimes swam before his eyes, yet whenever he thought of stopping, the kaval began another tune and carried him away again. What he remembered most clearly was the maiden with the orange ribbon coming close to him. Moonlight shone on her face, and her eyes sparkled with laughter. She said something; he laughed and answered, but after that his memories blurred. He remembered white garments, whirling dancers and music that seemed to come from everywhere. At last his strength failed and everything went dark. When he opened his eyes, sunlight was already filtering through the branches. He was lying in the grass on the same glade, with birds singing around him. Slowly he remembered the forest, the enchanted kaval and the three beautiful maidens. Yet there was no trace of them. Even the grass was uncrushed, as though no one had danced there during the night. He reached for his gadulka and stared in disbelief: its strings were broken. Then he remembered the purse at his belt. It was still tied there, but when he opened it, not a single gold coin remained. For a long time he sat in the grass, trying to understand. Had it all been a dream, or had he truly played for a samodiva dance? Had the strange maidens enchanted him and taken his gold? He did not know whether to mourn the lost money or rejoice that he had lived through the most wonderful night of his life. At last he picked up the gadulka, slung his bag over his shoulder and set off for Alfatar. Yet he could not drive from his thoughts the wondrous maiden with the orange ribbon and pale green eyes.

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