~✽~
I bid him farewell and moved further down the street, waving 'till he was out of sight. I noticed this sector was where poorer people lived, as there were more people like Bolek here. Well, he did say that this is where they mostly camped out. I silently made a mental note to come back here with my savings and give it to some of these people.
I wandered into another sector, that had a cute, cobbled street, with some occasional trees, and little shops. I stopped by a bench to rest for a little while, and gather my thoughts. I sighed at myself for not thinking to swipe some of Di's posters when I left the house.
I decided to take the time to admire the surrounding area. It was so quaint and cosy. People were walking to and fro, all with some places to go and people to see. As I scanned the vicinity, my eyes landed upon a woman across the street, who was cuddled up between a large, red post box, and a fire hydrant. There was a cardboard box with a thin, tattered sheet in it, tucked away next to her. This woman must also be homeless, I thought, judging from her ripped, and worn-out dress, that hung loosely around her thin, pale, weak frame, and her matted, muddy, long hair that cascaded around her in shaggy weaves.
I could imagine how beautiful she had once been. I guessed that the box might have been her little bed, to hide herself away, from the harsh, icy-cold blasts of the unforgiving weather. I watched her for a while- although I probably looked like an absolute creep- but she didn't really seem to notice. And that was when she surprised me.
She inched closer to the edge of the pavement, parted her chapped, fraying, lips, and began to sing. The song led me right into a trance- a beautiful, harmonic, melody, that played into my ear. Her voice was soft, and soothing-like it was coated with honey. But it dripped heavily with sadness and regret. You could almost see the world from her view, through her lyrics. As if they were a gateway that opened up into the harsh, cruel reality of life. My eyes grew heavy, and my heart sank, as I sat with my head low, a stray tear inching down my face. People began to gather around, dropping some spare Zloty into a little tin can by her side. Some walked away in tears, moved by the beauty of her voice, while others were just trying to manoeuvre around the crowd.
After the crowd had eventually dispersed, she began to sing something in German. My heart beat began to quicken rapidly, as I recognised the familiar tune.
"Abends, will ich schlafen gehn,
Vierzehn Engel um mich stehn:
Zwei zu meinen Häupten,
Zwei zu meinen Füßen,
Zwei zu meiner Rechten,
Zwei zu meiner Linken,
Zwei die mich decken,
Zwei, die mich wecken,
Zwei, die mich weisen
Zu Himmels Paradeisen!"
Translation: "In the evening, when I go to sleep, fourteen angels watch over me: two at my head, two at my feet, two on my right, two on my left, two cover me up, two awaken me, two, point the way, to paradise in heaven."
It was the German lullaby, Abendsegen, (or 'Evening Prayer.') It was one of mother's favourite lullabies to sing to me, back when I was little. I recall those nights, when I was scared of the dark, so I would find an excuse to stay up with her, and her soothing voice would lull me to sleep, washing away all the darkness and fear. I don't know what is was that struck me the most, but I found my legs crossing the street- to her. Maybe it was her incredible voice, maybe it was in the mysterious aura of her past, or maybe it was pity...to see such a person like her, lying broken on the street.
My eyes glassed over as I stood there, watching her. She started to notice, as the crowd around her began to disperse, and only I was left standing, teary-eyed, and weak in the knees. She looked up and greeted me.
"Hello there young lad, would you happen to have any change on you?" she asked, motioning to her can.
I couldn't find any words to throw out of my mouth, and stomach began to undo itself in knots. She studied me carefully, and blinked slowly. The glint of the sun, caught a shimmer in her pale, blue eyes.
"I-I'm s-sorry..." I spluttered.
I'm not very good with words, I know. Well hey, at least I managed to cough something out.
"Whatever are you sorry about, dear?" she asked.
"I-I don't have any money on me." I explained.
A little laugh escaped through her dry, cracked, lips. "I don't think anyone's ever felt sorry about that when it came to a street beggar like me. You're a kind young man. Go home, your parents must be worried." she told me, with a sad, far-away look on her face.
"I don't have any." I said. I regretted it, the very second those words flew out of my mouth, because that just seemed to make her sadder.
"Oh. I'm sorry lad. I should've known better." she grimaced.
