Prelude and The Raft
In the Circus Ring
The Pedlar's Prediction
Jealousy is Dead
A Steam Engine for a Piano
Hungarian Rhapsody: a failure
All or Nothing
Pilgrimage to Saint Frambourg - Dawn
étions et n’avions qu’un cœur ». François Villon.
(‘We were two with but one heart’).
an Egyptian, born in Rome. Soleilka means ‘sun’. Not that I’m being
pretentious: the name was given to me by my parents just like yours
was. My father used to say laughingly, "You’re a daughter of the
sun, Soleilka, and you will rise above everything."
used to tell me that the rulers of Ancient Egypt were our ancestors
and that I should be proud to be a daughter of the sun. And so I was
– very proud.
for fun, I would go out into the garden and call out to the sun, "Shine!"
Since we lived in Rome, it shone. That was easy. I would call to the
wind, "Bring us some rain!" and it rained. If it didn’t, it
was just that the trees weren’t thirsty. There’s a simple explanation
for everything if you don’t want to lose heart.
married Georges Cziffra, a Hungarian, in 1942. With him I lived through
war and peace; he played for the living and the dead. We experienced
death, fire, art, love and, above all, faith and resurrection. Then
we lost our son. Then I lost my husband.
this moment I, daughter of the sun and of the puszta, am in dark, damp
crypt of the Chapel in Senlis. Surrounded by the collapsing pillars
of the Carolingian monument, I am kneeling on the mud floor at the foot
of the statue of the Bishop of Saint Frambourg. Sharp bits of gravel
cut into my knees while my hands are busy collecting the flowers, strewn
here and there by the anonymous faith of visitors, and putting them
tokens of a reviving cult, the fresh wreathes bow gently over the ribbed
sides of the stone chasuble. For an instant, my fingers brush against
the feet of the statue, fixed in their eternal, holy expectancy. The
rough surface recalls the cold earth I had clawed at on impulse like
a terrier until there appeared, wrapped in decaying rags, the statue
now standing before me. I looked up, instinctively hiding my hands covered
in earth and gravel. The Saint gazes through me dreamily to Eternity.
From his blank stone eyes I feel a warm, appeasing dark wave coming
from afar as if in answer to a prayer.
often go into the Chapel to walk down the nave a little and relax. I
walk with all my sorrows, dreams, hopes and faith. Over the speakers,
the sound of the Rachmaninov concerto announces the start of the next
visit. I sit for an instant on the hard-backed bench and listen: I feel
within me the warm, appeasing, dark wave which shone in the statue’s
blank eyes. The dreamy gaze passing through me to eternity is the message
of Saint Frambourg: "Your deeds shall be accounted for in the realms
of the living and the dead."
and I lived through war and peace; he played for the living and the
dead. We experienced fire, art, love and, above all, faith and resurrection.
Posted by MusicWeb July 2012