History of A Love At First Sight 

For Ayla
A Tatar cavalier, a renegade from the Golden Horde, 
Is galloping through a small farm, near Budapest.

With a melody on her lips, a young woman emerges 
From her humble shack. The Tatar cavalier barely notices her, 

His eyes steadily fixed on the horizon. The men
From the Magyar villages, determined to teach him a lesson,

Are running after him armed with scythes and hoes.
The Tatar cavalier turns around and tosses them

A look. Suddenly a sharp pain pierces his chest.
Such images are hovering before my eyes, as I listen

To Hungarian musicians at a World Music concert:
A scarf full of spring lilies, a baggy shirt welcoming 

An unexpected wind, a flowery skirt fluttering playfully 
In the air. And this song:

This song is the song for my horse's walk.
This walk is the walk to all sorts of love.

This love is the love for the beauties of the world.
This world is the world of a Match-Making God.

A shiver permeates the Tatar cavalier's spine
As he turns around to look at the young woman

Now standing in front of her shack. The sharp pain
Which traverses his chest sparks a flame 

That puts a fire in my heart six centuries later
When for the first time, I see my wife.