Iliya and Yanko met one day,
their adventure plan to make,
a hike to Pirin Mountain—tall—
the danger made them quake.
As far back as their memories stretched
the tale was always told
of Samodivas, beautiful,
and their graceful, deathly hold.
Each holiday, their powers increased,
with Easter time the height,
and those who failed to honour them,
would surely die from fright.
But these two men thought they knew
of a way to overpower
the blonde-haired sirens’ secret songs,
a way to make them cower.
Iliya studied many books
dedicated to the girls
he fell in love with their big, blue eyes
and flowing, flaxen curls.
When Easter came, he met his friend,
their plans to finalise,
to meet these beauties, win their love,
the task did tantalise.
Up into the wilderness they climbed,
’til they reached the pine ring
that symbolised the entrance
to where the sirens sing.
Iliya yelped and led the way,
his friend froze in his place,
as winged creatures circled round
draping him in lace.
“The plan, Yanko, remember the plan,”
Iliya had turned most white
a jolt to Yanko’s consciousness
and he prepared to fight.
Reaching out, with shaking hand,
he grabbed the closest diva,
he took his knife and cut her gown,
and threw it in the river.
Suddenly, attention changed,
the girls all turned in rage,
but Yanko simply cut their robes
and they fell into a cage.
The threads that were binding Iliya
unwrapped themselves at once,
with a grin on his face, he let out a laugh
and shouted, “Yanko, run!”
For years to come the men retold their tale of beautiful magic
of how a trip into the haunted mountains could have been so tragic.
*Loosely based on the Bulgarian legend of the Samodivas