DA

"Sa nu dea Dumnezeu cel sfant

Sa vrem noi sange, nu pamant!

Cand nu vom mai putea rabda,

Cand foamea ne va rascula,

Hristosi sa fiti, nu veti scapa

Nici in mormant!"

George Cosbuc - Noi vrem pamant, 1894

Doruri / Longing

Am cusut-o cu gandul hoinarind pe dealuri... Peste covoarele de iarba grasa si peste florile pajistilor alpine. Betie a simturilor si liniste binecuvantata picurand in urechi. Ca un balsam... 

Cu ea sub crestet, cerul  ar fi mai tare. Si mai albastru.

Ma pregatesc insa de mare... De Dobrogea mea draga si de verde. De drumurile-i dulci, strajuite de plopi tremuranzi, in bataia vantului uscat. Oare ce povesti voi mai afla acum? Si ce povete, oare, imi va sopti iar la plecare?... Pe curand, mama Dobroge! Pe curand... 

My thoughts were strolling over the hills while making it... Over the rich, abundant carpets of grass, over the flowers of the alpine pastures. Exhilaration of senses and blessed silence dripping in your ears. Like a balm... 

With it under my head, the sky would be more vivid. And bluer.

But I'm preparing for the sea... For my dear Dobrogea and for green. For her mellow roads, guarded by the ancient aspens dancing in the dewless blowing of the wind. What stories will she tell me this time? And what teachings will she offer me when we'll say goodbye again?... Till soon, Mother Dobrogea! Till soon... 

Tudor Gheorghe - Umbra plopilor

Für Tiziana

Tocmai a implinit paisprezece ani. Invata bine si este frumoasa. Ii place sa cante la pian, Yiruma fiind unul dintre preferatii ei. De asemenea, adora sa inoate. In apa, e ca un peste.
Muzica si apa... o combinatie mereu curgatoare...
La multi ani, draga mea!

She just turned fourteen. She's good at school and she is beautiful. She gracefully plays the piano, Yiruma being one of her favorites. She also loves to swim. In the water, she's like a fish.
Water and music... an ever-flowing combination...
Happy birthday my darling!

Invocand ploaia / Calling down the rain

Zile fierbinti... Soare torid, verde parjolit, albastru intens. Si liniste. Adapostite cine stie unde, pasarile si-au oprit cantul. Si vantul bataia.
Precum odinioara, cand eram copil, m-am trezit inganand incet "Paparuda, ruda / Vino de ne uda..."

Invocand ploaia. Sa ne ude, sa ne curete, sa ne creasca.

Burning days. Torrid sun, scorched green, deep blue. And quietness. Sheltered who knows where, the birds had stopped singing. And the wind had stopped his blowing.
Forgotten incantation since I was a child, I found myself softly humming "Paparuda, ruda / Vino de ne uda..."

Calling down the rain. To water us, to purge us, to grow us.

... si o inedita versiune a cantecului Paparudei, din Moldova, in interpretarea surorilor Osoianu.

... and an original version of a Paparuda song (Drought ritual), from Moldavia area, performed by the Osoianu Sisters.

Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?

You think you own whatever land you land on
The earth is just a dead thing you can claim
But I know every rock and tree and creature
Has a life, has a spirit, has a name.


You think the only people who are people
Are the people who look and think like you
But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger
You'll learn things you never knew, you never knew.

Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?
Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?
Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?
Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?


Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest
Come taste the sun sweet berries of the earth
Come roll in all the reaches all around you
And for once never wonder what they're worth.

The rainstorms and the rivers are my brothers
The otter and heron are my friends
And we are all conned to each other
In a circle, in a hoop that never ends.


How high can sycamore grow?
If you cut it down, then you'll never know.
And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon

For whether we are white or copper-skinned
We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain
Need to paint with all the colors of the wind
Need to paint with all the colors of the wind.


You can own the earth and still,
All you own is earth until
You can paint with all the colors of the wind...

(Walt Disney's "Pocahontas" - Colors of the wind)

Apusul de soare din seara asta mi-a adus in minte acest cantec extraordinar. Tuturor celor ce hoinariti pe aceasta carare, va multumesc, o noapte buna!

Tonight's sunset remembered me this beautiful song. To all of you strolling on this trail, thank you and have a good night!

Soapte de departe / Whispers from afar

Galben aprins a bucurie. Muzica. Vechi radacini din Banatul sarbesc. Margarete in vant... Si mama. Celebrare a soarelui. Celebrare a vietii. Si Aide Jano...

Bright yellow of happiness. Music. Old roots from Serbian Banat. Daisies in the wind... And my mother. Solar celebration. Life celebration. And Aide Jano...

Hara - Aide jano

Semne din batrani / Ancient forecast

Cand se iveste luna, daca e galbina - e a vreme buna, iar daca e rosie - e a vant.
Cand paiangenul isi intinde panza - e semn a vreme buna si fara vant, iar cand "isi taraie panza" - o aduna - e semn de vreme rea si cu vant.
(Comoara satelor, Anul I, Ianuarie 1923)

In concluzie, inca o zi senina si fierbinte....

If the moon is yellow when it rises - the weather will be fair, and if she is red - it will be windy.
When the spider is reeling his web - it's a sign of good weather, without wind, and when he's bringing it together - then it's a sign of bad weather and wind.
(The Villages' treasure, First Year, January 1923)

Conclusively another sunny, hot day....

Intelesuri ascunse / Hidden meanings

Simboluri.
Unele, mai simple, ne vorbesc tuturor deopotriva.
Altele, mai complexe, isi soptesc tainele doar acelora pregatiti sa le primeasca intelepciunea.

Simbolul de mai jos l-am descoperit intr-un articol despre vechi arhetipuri geto-dace si, se pare, se afla sculptat pe poarta sanctuarului de la Sarmizegetusa. Nu i-am deslusit inca soapta, dar am simtit nevoia sa-l reproduc si sa-l dau mai departe...
Pana acum, este cea mai dificila broderie la care am lucrat. Nu datorita complexitatii punctelor de cusatura folosite sau a detaliilor migaloase, ci pentru simplul fapt ca n-am putut coase la ea decat in anumite zile sau momente ale zilei. Si astfel, nu de putine ori, a devenit obositor si dificil sa continuu. Nu am o explicatie pentru asta, insa acum ca e gata, am o mare bucurie ca am incheiat!

Symbols.

Some, simpler, speak to us equally.

Others, more complex, whisper their secrets only to those ready to receive their wisdom. 

I discovered the symbol above in an article I read about Dacian ancient archetypes and, apparently, it's carved on the gate of Sarmizegetusa sanctuary. I haven't managed to understand its whisper yet, but I felt the need to reproduce it and pass it on... 

So far, it's the most difficult embroidery I've made. Not because of the complexity of the stitches I used or the niggling details, but because I could only sew in some days or parts of the day. Thus, pretty often, became hard and weary to continue doing it. I have no explanation for this, but now that's ready, I feel a great joy I've finished it!

simbolul original / the original symbol

foto: http://iulianandrei.wordpress.com/2011/01/11/arhetipuri-simboluri-din-preistoria-noastra/