Norocel

Maine se va implini o saptamana de cand ne-am intalnit. Intamplator. Sau poate nu... Planuri rasturnate, calatorii anulate, scurte pareri de rau. Toate alaturi de-o mare bucurie!
Are aproape patru saptamani si e fetita. I-am spus Norocel. Norocul este al meu, la fel si privilegiul de a-mi fi fost scoasa in cale.

Tomorrow it will be one week since our encounter. By hazard. Or maybe not... Change of plans, cancelled trips, short regrets. All together with a great joy!
She's almost four weeks old and she's a girl. I called her Norocel (Little Luck). I'm the lucky one and the privileged for her to be put on my way.

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.