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The Lucky Man

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Lucky Man

It was a stranger for those places, he came soon and did not seem any richer nor poorer than other locals. he looked like pretty well passed the half life, his hair was grey at the temples, he did not try to hide it, but he was walking straight and firm gaze… He was distinguished, however, by the fact that no one had ever seen other way than smiling. One day, in the market, when approaching a butcher’s stall which was always his little shop, the butcher dared to ask him why always smiling.

“Because I’m a lucky man!” Came the response, somewhat surprising.

People began to ask questions: for whatever he was so lucky, and how manifested that extraordinary luck that made him always to smile? To have, maybe, a treasure? Then why not live as such, why not have servants, why not dress more modern, why not sitting in a palace and not having the most beautiful and most attractive teams courtesans? The questions remained unanswered, but when they saw him, people gave their elbows, and pointed at him with finger, and said, sometimes with envy:

“Here, this is the luckiest man!” …

Until, in one of the sunny mornings when school teachers uttered children to walk on the field at the edge of town, they found the Lucky Man in the shade of an old chestnut, on the border of a spring, where shepherds watered their sheep, and started to talk to him. First, face serene and smiling, the Lucky Man greeted the teachers and children, and then he was ready to answer questions from one of the teachers, more daring than others:

“Why do people say about you that you’re a lucky man?” …

“Because I am, and for that I thank Heaven every moment of my life” …

“However, we always see you alone, without being surrounded by luxury, without having any extraordinary power. What is your luck? “…

“I was lucky since young, when I fell in love with the most beautiful girl in my hometown. Her hair was golden, wavy, and rich blue eyes. She answered to my love and I was fortunate that I married and gave birth to two boys that looked like two drops of water with her. I’ve been lucky over the years, that her love for me was always as big as my love for her. I was lucky seeing my boys grow up, obedient, strong and smart, arousing the admiration of my fellow citizens; most of the prominent families in my country courted them them to become their sons-in-law. They chose, however, military career, and I was a lucky when my beloved wife closed her eyes, in a summer evening, taking us all three together. She died quietly, and cared a few years her grave. When the war broke out, my sons went to borders, to defend the country and our King, and I was lucky when all my fellow citizens have brought tributes for fallen heroically, defending the flag of our nation. Though war and people had other worries, I was lucky because their bodies were brought home, so I put them to rest within the room next to their mother, as was fitting. I was lucky when, a month later, I went to a village a few miles away from my town, across the river, to look after a sick relative, and in one of the nights my city was conquered, destroyed, razed to the ground and the entire population exterminated. I am the only survivor, because luck has not left me … I’m lucky I found here welcoming people, who have treated me normally. not like a stranger, and I am very lucky because I feel very sick and powerless, because I know the end close and that soon I will meet not just with my beloved wife, but also with my two sons. I am also lucky … “…

but the words are no more spoken, because his head fell on one shoulder, and his face froze smiling as people knew him the moment he arrived in that place …

(Translated from aMorale, by Marius Cilibia)

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