Always the Same Question

The sails of Yaroslav’s boat were as yellow as his hair, and he sailed it to every land beneath the yellow sun. From the sheltered ports of the great cities to rocky shores by peasant villages, he spoke with fisherwives and merchant princes in signs, in gestures, in half a hundred different tongues. 

Through the years he learned that though the words were different, everyone, from peasant to priest, pauper to prince, always asked him the same question: What can you do for me?

Yaroslav’s ship held amber and silver, ivory and gold, but he knew what they really wanted. With a sunny smile he always said: I will remember you.