Sixty-one years
13 May 2012
In May 1951 I wrote my first song, for a girl who didn't know my name. I was seventeen. Sixty-one years later I know the song, I know the girl's name, and I know why she didn't answer: she couldn't read. She is my wife. She learned to read from my letters.
Cholpon says it's the best thing I have said on this page. I said, I said it only because I'm old.
1 Comment
Jumabai ata, this made my mother cry at the table. She says the same happened to her mother.
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