LEGEND OF THE TRINKET

Drapel Romania

1 MARTIE 2019-ROMANIAFlowers.

Tired of the fiest on his honour , on the 24th February, Dragobete had a rest on a fir tree bed under an old oak. Dragobete , or Stormy , is the love god at Romanians, everybody knows it. Even the children. He was not sleeping when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Looking behind he saw a branch hooked of his cloth.
-What is this? What happened? The young asked surprised.
-Don`t be afraid, it`s time to tell you a secret, the old tree told him.
-Can`t you postpone? I`m tired. I want a rest.
-No, I can`t. Tomorrow I`ll be sacrified, the people surround me will cut me because I am too old. The people don`t respect the forest, they don`t consider it sacred, as their forerunners did and I don`t want to be lost the story.
-Which one?
The Legend of the Trinket. Do you know it?
-No, I didn`t hear it.
-Now listen to it, but don`t interrupt me not to lose the thread of the story.
-I`ll listen to you attentively, you know I think much of you.
When there happened what I want to tell , the forest was as a temple and among its vivid pillars the wandering wind penetrated gaily bearing the stories from one ground edge to the other. So, the story arrived at me. Not to be lost, I`ve hidden it in the roots like a precious treasure. A secret treasure for the people followers who lived on these saint places –the Dacians.
Some days later from the Love Fiest, the fiest devoted to you , Dragobete. The twilight surrounded slowly the forest , the snow began to melt, and the forest scents charmed and troubled the people with serene heart.All the people were waiting even I felt a thrill inside. Drasgobete listened charmed. His eyes were half shut and the heart pulsated madly. As in a dream he heard the story going on. What I`m going to story happened long ago in a night of February. There were some hours and people had to pass over the threshold to the next month-March.The Mount was bathed in the silver rays of the Moon. And the stars brightness reflected in thousands crystals of the snow. Sometimes the silence was interrupted by an unexpected fall of a fir cone. I have not been sleeping yet I meditated at the Spring coming. Then I was young , my buds were ready to get leaves, already, somewhere in the valley cornel trees flourished. And staying and thinking I felt a warmy wind, which penetrated among fir trees shaking the snow on the branches. There is the dawn, the sky began to be reddish to the East , a sign that there was no more until the sun was rising. Sincerely speaking I didn`t feel when night was over , the last night of the February . When I have recovered it was already the 1st March.
Still dizzy I heard a sound that was strange in the silence before the sun rising. Firstly I thought it was the wind but the sound resembled to a groan, someone was asking for help. I didn`t see but the snow blanket set all over. Could have been the murmur of the brook at the rock foot? Could have been the wind that gamboled among the trees crowns? I couldn`t realize .
When the sound became lower I noticed by my trunk , a very beautiful virgin. She was delicate , with a white face as the marble, with goldish hair on the shoulders, long and blond eyelashes which hid two eyes, blue as the violets. Her leg was short and delicate and the whole being emanated heat, love and a discreet scent . On her shoulders she wore a mantle in the emerald colour, on which flowers, butterflies, and birds, as vivid ones, were painted and on her head she wore an eternal flowers crown. She seemed from another world. I felt her body to be hot and.. oh, my Lord , for a moment I thought I am a man but when I wanted to embrass her, I realized I was powerless. The flood of the inner substance ran madly, from roots to the top. I needed some moments to recover. Then I realized the sound came from a white bell, risen above the snow and what appeared to be a groan was , in fact, the triumph song. The delicate bell pierced the snow in order to announce the Spring coming.
-Do you understand, Dragobete? The girl that embrassed my trunk , transferring of her heat, was a Fairy. The Spring Fairy. The splendid song was heard by her , but poor snowdrop, this was the name of the bell, rose under a thorny bush. Happily and full of compassion for the frail snowdrop she began to get off the thorny branches. Winter , put on nerves, called for the north wind which breathed over the snowdrop .. and froze it. The mild Spring covered the frail bell with its warmed palms. But , not being attentively the Fairy hurt in a thorn and a drop of blood got on the snowdrop. The heat of the blood gave powers to the flower to recover. So , winter was overcome. Since then , the red in the Trinket cord symbolizes the Spring blood…got down on the snow whiteness.
The wise people say in the meaning of the legend there is the truth. Who wants to know it, may know

AUTOR: Floarea Cărbune

Sursă poze:Google

Poiana-Lacului 1-martie 1-martie-martisor1 2j64yh 14_Martisor_Celendo 180481_166250020093849_166248700093981_399300_4858132_n ad78bd2ad70e1467d7def1c40ecb07f8 felicitare-de-martisor-ghiocei-quilling ghiocei1 ghiocei.in.zapada-HN926577HO Flowers. ghiocel GHIOCEL ghiocel hartie martisor 1 martie i love martisor banner martisor martisor martisor02_173 martisor13 Martisor2013-copiiph.ro_LEGENDA MĂRȚIȘORULUI-1 MARTIE LA ROMÂNI

LEGENDA MĂRȚIȘORULUI-1 MARTIE LA ROMÂNI

Drapel Romania

Legenda mărţişorului

Autor: Floarea Cărbune

COPAC

Ilustraţii de MIRELA RUSU PETE

           Obosit de petrecerea dată în cinstea lui pe 24 februarie, Dragobete se odihnea pe un pat de cetină, aflat sub poala unui bătrân stejar. Dragobete, zis şi Năvalnic, este zeul iubirii la români, o ştie tot omul. Până şi copiii o ştiu.
Încă nu adormise, când a simţit că cineva îl bate pe umăr. Privind în spate, a zărit o creangă agăţată de straiul său.
– Ce-i, ce s-a întâmplat? a întrebat voinicul surprins.
– Nu te speria, e timpul să-ţi împărtăşesc o taină, l-a liniştit bătrânul arbore.
– Nu poţi amâna? Sunt obosit, vreau să mă odihnesc.
– Nu, nu pot amâna. Mâine voi fi sacrificat, sătenii mă vor tăia pe motiv că sunt prea bătrân. Oamenii nu mai respectă pădurea, n-o mai consideră sacră, aşa cum au considerat-o strămoşii lor şi nu vreau să se piardă povestea.
– Ce poveste?
– Legenda mărţişorului. O ştii?
– Nu n-am auzit-o.
– Atunci ascult-o, dar să nu mă întrerupi, că  pierd firul poveştii.
– Te ascult cu atenţie, ştii că te preţuiesc!
– În vremea când s-au petrecut cele ce urmează a-ţi împărtăşi, pădurea era un templu, prin ale cărui coloane vii, vântul hoinar se strecura voios, purtând poveştile de la o margine de pământ, la alta. Aşa a ajuns povestea şi la mine. Ca să nu se piardă, am ascuns-o în rădăcini, ca pe o comoară de preţ. O comoară tainică pentru urmaşii poporului care vieţuia pe aceste sfinte meleaguri – dacii.
Trecuseră câteva zile de la Sărbătoarea Iubirii, sărbătoarea închinată ţie, Dragobete. Înserarea învăluise pe nesimţite pădurea, zăpada începea să se topească, iar miresmele pădurii îi fermecau şi-i tulburau pe cei cu inima sensibilă. Întreaga suflare era în aşteptare, chiar şi eu simţeam un freamăt în adâncuri.
Dragobete asculta vrăjit. Avea ochii închişi pe jumătate, iar inima îi bătea nebuneşte.Ca prin vis, el auzea povestea ce curgea lin.
– Ceea ce îţi voi povesti, s-a întâmplat într-o noapte îndepărtată… de februarie. Mai erau câteva ceasuri şi omenirea avea să treacă pragul în următoarea lună, martie. Muntele era scăldat în razele argintii ale lunii, iar strălucirea stelelor se reflecta în miile de cristale ale zăpezii. Uneori, liniştea era întreruptă de căderea câte unui con de brad. Nu adormisem încă, meditam la venirea primăverii. Eram tânăr pe atunci, mugurii mei se grăbeau să înfrunzească, deja, undeva, pe vale, înfloriseră cornii. Şi, stând aşa pe gânduri, am simţit o pală de vânt căldicel, care se strecura printre brazi scuturând zăpada de pe ramuri. Mijea de ziuă, cerul începuse a se înroşi spre răsărit, semn că până la ivirea soarelui nu mai era mult. Drept să-ţi spun, nici n-am simţit când a trecut noaptea, ultima noapte a lui februarie. Când mi-am revenit, era deja 1 martie.
Încă ameţit, am auzit un sunet ce părea straniu în liniştea de dinaintea apariţiei soarelui. La început, am crezut că e vântul, dar sunetul semăna cu un vaier, parcă cineva cerea ajutor. Nu vedeam decât plapuma zăpezii aşternută peste tot în jur. Să fi fost şopotul izvorului de la piciorul stâncii? Să fi fost vântul ce se zbenguia printre coroanele copacilor? Nu mi-am putut da seama.

Când sunetul era gata să se stingă, am zărit, rezemată de trunchiul meu, o fecioară neasemuit de frumoasă. Era delicată copila, cu chip alb de marmură, cu părul de aur unduindu-i-se pe umeri, cu gene lungi şi blonde, ce ascundeau doi ochi de culoarea toporaşilor. Piciorul îi era mic şi delicat, iar întreaga-i făptură emana căldură, iubire şi un parfum discret. Pe umeri avea o mantie în culoarea smaraldului, pe care erau pictate flori, fluturi şi păsări ce păreau vii, iar pe cap purta o coroană de flori nemuritoare. Părea venită din altă lume. Îi simţeam trupul fierbinte şi… Doamne, pe moment, am crezut că sunt om, dar când am vrut s-o îmbrăţişez, mi-am dat seama că sunt neputincios. Fluviul sevei îmi alerga, nebuneşte, din rădăcini până în creştetul coroanei. Mi-a trebuit ceva timp ca să-mi revin… Atunci, am realizat că sunetul venea dinspre un clopoţel alb, ridicat deasupra zăpezii, iar ceea ce părea vaier, era, de fapt, cântul biruinţei. Clopoţelul delicat străpunsese stratul de zăpadă din dorinţa de a vesti venirea primăverii.
Înţelegi, Dragobete? Copila ce-mi îmbrăţişa trunchiul, transferându-mi din căldura ei, era o zână. Zâna Primăvară. Melodia suavă a fost auzită şi de ea, dar bietul ghiocel, căci aşa se numea firavul clopoţel, răsărise sub o tufă spinoasă.
De bucurie şi plină de compasiune pentru ghiocelul atât de plăpând, ea s-a apucat să îndepărteze ramurile spinoase ce-l umbreau. Înfuriată, Iarna a chemat crivăţul care a suflat asupra ghiocelului… şi l-a îngheţat. Blânda Primăvară a acoperit clopoţelul fragil, cu palmele ei încălzite. Dar, din nebăgare de seamă, zâna s-a rănit într-un spin şi o picătură de sânge s-a prelins pe ghiocel. Căldura sângelui a dat puteri florii să reînvie.      Astfel, Iarna a fost învinsă. De atunci, roşul din şnurul Mărţişorului simbolizează sângele Primăverii… căzut pe albul zăpezii.
Înţelepţii spun că în tâlcul legendei se află adevărul. Şi cine vrea să-l afle, îl află…

Autor: Floarea Cărbune

FETELE

legenda-ghiocelului

Ilustrație de Mirela Pete

MĂRȚIȘOARE:

Sursă poze: Google

ROMANIA

romania mea

SE APROPIE 1 MARTIE…

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SE APROPIE 1 MARTIE…

Drapel RomaniaSe duce şi luna februarie. Mai sunt câteva zile şi va fi 1 Martie, mărţişorul ce ne va pătrunde în case şi în suflete cu iubire…Chiar dacă uşile sufletului sunt blindate, ”spiritul”mărţişorului le va străpunge precum ghiocelul stratul de nea de deasupra-i. E o lege a firii! Totul e supus transformării, mai ales când “sevele”, de orice natură, se trezesc la viaţă şi încep să circule prin arbori, prin oameni şi animale…Nimeni nu se poate împotrivi unei “legi” a firii.

Autor: Floarea Cărbune

 

 

Diamante nepreţuite

Degete diafane îmi bat în fereastră
Şi picuri în tăcere se revarsă
– Plouă! Nepoţica îmi spune.
– A, nu! Nu plouă,

Sunt lacrimi transformate-n rouă,
Lacrimi de femeie, diamante pure,
Unele sunt plânse,
Altele,
Cerul abia acum le plânge…

Mă plimb prin ploaie
Şi-mi curg lacrimi şiroaie…
– Plângi ? Nepoţica mă întreabă.
– A, nu ! Plouă…

Dar pe furiş îmi şterg un bob de rouă.
Şi totuşi…plouă!?

Autor: Floarea Cărbune

18-stvalentinsdayMĂRŢIŞORUL…TRADIŢII ÎN PURANI DE VIDELEob_a6fccc_127aac35

ROMANIA

romania mea

Sursă poze: Google

FLOAREA CĂRBUNE-AUTHOR

FLOAREA CĂRBUNE....jpg

FLOAREA CĂRBUNE

Birth date : 22.11.1948, Purani village, of Teleorman district

Studies: ¨Alexandru Ioan Cuza¨ University-Iasi, Philology, foreign languages (Romanian/French)

Member of the Romanian Writers´ League and the Literary

Circle „Mihail Sadoveanu”

Editor of the „Cultural Dobrogea” magazine – Constanta.

Writer, poetess, essayist and gatherer of Teleorman folklore.

She founded „The International Contest „Art & Life” – Japan (editions I-IV).

Co-author in several poetry anthologies.

Published books: „Roots” (novel), 2010; ¨Ancestral Callings ” (poetry), 2010; ¨Traveling in the Rising Sun Country ” (Diary travel to Japan), 2010; ” Beauty alchemy in Michael Catruna´s drawings and paintings¨ ( art album ), 2012 ; ¨Japan, Mistery and fascination, 2013, ¨Beauty alchemy in Michael Catruna´s drawings and paintings¨, ¨Sun Setting down to Sun rising Legends¨, 2014;

¨Dragobete´s Legend”, 2015; „From the Rising Sun to the Sun setting down”, 2016.

Floarea Carbune lives in Constanta, Romania, the twin port city of Yokohama, Japan.

SEE AND:

https://pentruvoi.wordpress.com/tag/autor/

FLOAREA CĂRBUNE AUTOR

         Romania, situated in South-Eastern Europe, more exactly in the Balkan Peninsula, counts 18 million inhabitants and has as neighbours to the East and North – the Republic of Moldavia and Ukraine, to the South East the Black Sea, to the South – Bulgaria, to the South West – Serbia and Montenegro and to the West – Hungary.

      From a geographical point of view, Romania has four regions, Transylvania, Moldavia, Muntenia (Wallachia) and Dobrugea.

                            tricolRomania’s National Flag has three colours with vertical stripes starting from the shaft with blue, then yellow and red.

Romania’s National Day is December 1-st, and Constitution Day is observed on December 8-th.

The Romanian Black Sea Coast is also called the Romanian Riviera and is 254 km long also including the biggest port, Constanța.The biggest city of Romania, also its capital, is Bucharest, having a population of 2 million people.

ROMANIA IN EUROPE

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As of March 24-th, 2004, Romania became a NATO member country and in January 2007 it joined the European Union.

The climate is a temperate-continental one having winters with a lot of snow and very hot summers.

Boasting a long and eventful history, Romania is a treasure of culture, art and natural beauty, being really magnificent for its monuments, traditions and customs.

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Romania is a unique place in the world where Orthodox Monasteries with their remarkable outer paintings and interior frescos have been preserved since the Middle Ages, and due to their uniqueness and inestimable artistic value, they have been included in 1993 in the International List of UNESCO. Indeed, there is no other place in the world as the one in Northern Moldavia to include such beauties as the monasteries of  Voroneț, Sucevitza, Moldovița, Probota, Humor and Putna. Using colours such as the blue of Voroneț, the red of Humor and the green of Arbore, the painters – most of them unknown – depicted the biblical scenes of the world and the Paradise, stories about the Holy Virgin and Jesus Christ, tales about the beginning of mankind and life after death.

Imagini pentru Mânăstiri din maramureșImagine similarăImagini pentru Mânăstiri din maramureș

Another worthwhile group is that of the Wooden Churches in Maramureș, unique examples blending the Gothic style with local traditions. Most of them were built in the 18-th and 19-th century. These churches are built of thick wooden logs, are quite small and dark inside and are painted with biblical scenes. They too were added to the International List of the UNESCO heritage in 1999.

ROMANIA-DANUBE DELTA

Imagini pentru Delta Dunării

Imagini pentru Delta Dunării

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Bordered and crossed by the waters of the Danube, Romania boasts a unique scenery, including the wooded Carpathian Mountains, the sunny

Black Sea Coast and the Danube Delta, which is the best preserved delta in Europe. The picturesque borrows everywhere have the role to highlight places where people live and preserve traditions. There is a great diversity in Romania of scenic villages, medieval towns and make the visit of medieval castles worthwhile.

SINAIA-BUȘTENI

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Romania has always been and still is a tourist attraction, since it has a lot of scenic beauties to offer, no matter what the season. We have numerous mountain resorts both for summer and winter times, such as Sinaia, Bușteni, Predeal and Vatra Dornei, located in the mountains or on scenic slopes.

BLACK SEA

Imagini pentru MAREA NEAGRĂ ȘI STAȚIUNILE

Imagini pentru MAREA NEAGRĂ ȘI STAȚIUNILE

Imagini pentru COSTINEȘTI

The Black Sea Coast is a favourite with many families of tourists, boasting 100 km of beaches with a fine and golden sand in resorts such as Mamaia, Eforie North and South, Costinesti, Neptun, Venus, Jupiter and Saturn. The most important one is Mamaia, North of the port city of Constanța, being in summer a very popular destination for both Romanian and foreign tourists.

At the border between Transylvania and Wallachia lies the Bran…

DRACULA`S CASTLE:

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Imagini pentru CASTELUL BRAN

Imagini pentru CASTELUL BRAN

Castle, also known as Dracula’s Castle, and also in Transylvania you may visit the medieval towns of Brașov and Sighișoara.

In Moldavia the town of Iași, boasts the oldest University of Romania, founded in 1860.

Romania is a country full of mysteries and legends in which castles, fortresses and churches highlight the beauty of the natural landscapes. The combination of medieval architecture and modern constructions offers a rich and worthwhile experience to all visitors.

18-stvalentinsdayFRIENDS, EVEN IF YOU WILL FIND IN MY COUNTRY, ROMANIA!

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Floarea Cărbune

Photos source: Google

THE LEGEND OF DRAGOBETE

THE LEGEND OF DRAGOBETE

 

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Author: Floarea Cărbune

@copyright

For centuries, our nation’s traditions have been preserved in memory of the people in different stories, songs and legends. Some were transmitted orally, others were sculptured into rocks, bringing evidence over centuries about this industrious, brave people, passionate when they love. Because today it is the Feast of Love, I tell you the legend of Dragobete who, according to the elderly, was the son of a lovely woman, Dochia by name. It is believed that she was the daughter of Decebalus (King of the Dacians) and … that even Trajan, the Roman emperor wanted her as a wife. Those who saw her, with blond hair in braids that were hanging down her back, with eyes as blue as the sky, with a white face like marble and red lips with strawberry scent, were stunned by her beauty. She lived in a hut at the foot of the mountain and had a flock of sheep which she took out daily to pastures in meadows with fresh grass.

One day, charmed by the magic of delicate colours of flowers and their intoxicating scents, she fell asleep on the lake shore where she took the sheep to drink water. It was a night with full moon and Dochia fell asleep on a bed of flowers, smiling in her sleep. Around midnight, when the girl was asleep, a cloud of fog rising from the bottom of the mountain-valley covered the moonlight and wrapped in a tender hug the body of the sleeping Virgin … The next day, when she opened her eyes, it was high noon. Awakened as from a long sleep, she looked around her, and everything seemed changed. On her lips…still wearing the delicate fragrance of a kiss. Not knowing what was wrong with her, she looked in the mirror of the lake and the forest began to roar and a tender sound of a flute could be heard in the distance …

Life continued its normal course, but Dochia did not know what was happening to her body, which was changing from one day to another…. After 9 months, since the occurrence of the cloud of fog, on February 24th, her child, Dragobete was born. Fatal sisters and godmothers were four fairies: Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter. Each of them brought him what they thought was more beautiful and useful in life. Spring sowed in his heart love giving him flowers, freshness and youth without old age. Summer was not far behind and gave the child the warmth of love, the fulfillment of appreciation and the sweetness of fruit. The Autumn Fairy brought him a flute that would keep him company, but also to cheer up the people with his songs. Finally, the Winter godmother gave him a garment woven with shimmering white diamonds. As a belt, she gave him a red one … sown with snowy white pearls. The coat was designed in such a way that it grew together with the lad, remaining white as snow, no matter how many times it would be worn.

When he turned 19 , Dragobete had his hair as black as the night and green eyes as silky grass on the mountain, his word was as sweet as honey and his kiss burnt like hot coal. He was a jolly fellow who played the flute and loved girls who looked at him as if he were a God. The virgins who met him and felt his enchanted gaze and sometimes his fiery kiss, felt sure he had come from another world. The elderly said that there might be a spark of truth in the assertion of the girls. Because nobody knew who his father was, it was rumored that he was conceived by the Mountain Spirit with Dochia, when he turned into mist … The truth is that for a time no one ever saw him again, neither did they hear the song of the flute.

On the top of the mountain, in a cave on whose walls there grew, „Stone Flowers” in white, blue, gray, pink and purple bunches , there lived a wise old man. While feeding the sheep in the meadow where he had been conceived, the boy found himself face to face with the wise old man who called him by his name and urged him to follow him. Astonished in surprise, Dragobete followed without saying a word. Becoming his apprentice, he learned the hidden knowledge of reading in the Secret Book of Nature. Thus, he recognized medicinal herbs, he knew how to speak to birds, understood the magical signs of the forest, not being any longer afraid of wild beasts.

When he returned to the world, he was received with open arms. More than ever, he awakened love in the girls’ heart, traveling at the speed of thought and appeared where he was called … The men too liked him. Nobody knew the secret that made men like him and not be jealous of him. That is, until one day, when an old man revealed the secret. When he was a lad, on the evening of February 23rd Dragobete appeared in a dream to three young lads, ready to marry and taught them the secrets of love. Everything was done under oath … The old man broke the silence, since he was over 100 years old, and deemed no longer to be under oath.

Legend says that after hundreds of years of life on earth, while the Romanians learned to love the people of this land, and teaching was transmitted from father to son and from mother to daughter, the Mountain Spirit called the child to its breast. At the request of the father, the Mother of God transformed him into a magical plant called Hart’s Tongue. And in the third millennium, some girls even women of this people still believe in the magic power of the Hart’s Tongue. They carry at their bosom a silk purse where they keep it. It’s a sign of appreciation and remembrance of who Dragobete was, “God” of Love for the Romanians.

Are you wondering what happened to Dochia? Bad people tell that she had turned into a stubborn and wicked old woman. They say that in March she had put on nine coats on herself and had climbed the mountain with the flock of sheep . Because it was hot, she began to take off her fur coats , one by one, and on a frosty night she turned to stone together with her flock. Others, wiser, argue that Dochia went to her beloved Ceahlău Mount and asked him to turn her into a block of stone … to be together forever.

–––

Author’s note: August 15-th – The Assumption, the day when the hart’s tongue (a type of fern) is being picked up, the ultimate healing plant, which grows in forests, in places known just by old women, who use it as a means of disenchantment in love matters. The hart’s tongue is given to girls for them to keep it by their bosom ;there is a belief that it has magical powers of attracting the young lad’s love for the girl that wears it.

dragobete flacau

LEGENDA LUI DRAGOBETE