Se afișează postările cu eticheta muzica. Afișați toate postările
Se afișează postările cu eticheta muzica. Afișați toate postările

5/13/2013

Dupa furtuna / After the storm


The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
.............................
Forever and ever

Pink Floyd - High Hopes, The Division Bell Album

Am vazut furtuna rupandu-le frunze, aplecandu-le flori si spaland polenul, ba chiar smulgandu-i din radacini. Cu toate astea, pomii primesc totul firesc. Cu demnitate. Doar noi, oamenii, ne plangem. Si-aproape de fiecare data dupa o furtuna, ne intrebam ‘pentru ce am fost pedepsiti’?...

Daca o clipa am opri intrebarea la jumatate si-am privi in jurul nostru, am putea vedea ca dupa furtuna lumina e mai clara, aerul mai curat si aromele mai patrunzatoare. Ca cerul e mai cer, pamantul mai pamant si verdele mai verde… O alta perspectiva si totusi aceeasi. Doar mai limpede. Un punct si de la capat, scris pe ramasitele frunzelor si florilor noastre, spulberate de furtuna. Poate un nou inceput spre care, altfel, n-am fi avut curajul si increderea sa pornim?!...


I saw the storm breaking their leaves, bending their flowers and washing away the pollen, even pulling their roots out of the ground.  Nevertheless, trees accept everything artlessly. With dignity. Only we, human beings, like to complain of. And almost after every storm that occurs, we ask ‘what have we been punished for ‘?
If only we could stop that question for a second and look around us, we would see how light is clearer, the air is crisper and the flavours louder, after a storm. How the sky is sky-er, the earth is earth-er and the green is greener…  Another perspective and yet the same. Only clearer. Full stop and start a new line, written on our shattered leaves and flowers.  Perhaps a new beginning we never would’ve had the faith and courage to start walking to?!...


Pink Floyd - High Hopes

12/25/2012

Povestea Oamenilor de Zapada... / Snowmen Story...

Oamenii de zapada isi fac bilantul...
The Snowmen make the balance sheet...




S-au bucurat si i-au bucurat pe altii...
They joyed others and enjoyed themselves...

 

Au trecut prin greutati, dar si prin momente fericite...
They passed hardships but also had happy moments...



Si-au facut prieteni noi, dar nu s-au uitat nici pe ei insisi...
They made new friends but didn't forget themselves...

 
Au mers, au tacut, au inteles si s-au maturizat...
They walked, they kept silent, they understood  and they matured...

 
Acum se primenesc si pregatesc sa intampine un nou an. Cum va fi el sa vina...
Now they prepare and get ready to greet a new year. No matter how it will be...

 

Va multumesc tuturor ca mi-ati fost alaturi acest an si va doresc sarbatori cu bine si un an nou fericit, cu sanatate si multe impliniri! Craciun fericit si La multi ani!
In final, va a ofer in dar cel mai drag colind mie.... Versurile unui mare Om - Radu Gyr cantate de un alt mare Om - Tudor Gheorghe.

Thank you all for being with me this year and I wish you happy holidays and a fulfilling new year, in good health and happiness! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!
In the end, I'm offering you a carol, the closest to my soul... A great Man's lyrics - Radu Gyr sung and interpreted by another great Man - Tudor Gheorghe


7/10/2012

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!

7/06/2012

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

6/22/2012

Maria lui Tănase


 Fiecare venim pe lume purtand o flacără în noi. La unii pâlpâie slab, nici caldă nici rece. În alții arde mocnit, și le ajunge o viață. Lungă, așezată, fără mari suișuri și coborâșuri. Și mai sunt cei "alesi”, "cei scoși din rand” în care arde vâlvătaie, mistuindu-i mereu prea devreme, pe altarul celor dinainte sortiți jertfei.  Jertfă necesară pentru ca cei dintâi să poată crește.
Un astfel de OM a fost Măria Tănase. Un amestec alchimic de frumusețe feminină, demnă de marile dive ale cinematografiei alb-negru, de talent, forță și patimă, de simplitate și autenticitate strâns împletite cu un bun gust și rafinament extraordinare. A trăit furtunos, îmbrățișând viața cu toate ale ei, o existența aflată permanent sub semnul lui "a iubi”. A ars și în dragoste și pe scenă, dăruindu-se total, participând cu întreaga ființă.

image via Wikipedia

 Născută în 1913 în mahalaua Cărămidarilor, al treilea copil al făgărășencei Ana Munteanu și al florarului oltean Ioan Coandă Tănase, Maria a crescut de mică în mijlocul doinelor cântate de muncitorii în grădina tatălui și-al bocetelor pe care se furișa să le asculte în cimitir. Înzestrată cu o personalitate puternică, total atipică pentru tiparele și tabuurile vremii, la 16 ani pleacă de-acasă și participă la Miss România. Nu trece testul costumelor de baie, însă un tânăr medic se-ndragosteste de ea, și-n urma poveștii de iubire rămâne însărcinată. Renunță la sarcină, însă decizia o lasă fără posibilitatea de-a mai avea copii vreodată, acesta fiind poate singurul mare regret al vieții sale. Tristețea și durerea și le transpune ulterior în interpretarea cântecelor, neîmplinirea maternității fiind, probabil, unul din motivele cancerului de sân, extins la plamani, ce i-a adus și sfârșitul, la numai 49 de ani.

A cucerit pe rând, România, Parisul, America. A trăit sofisticat, o viață ca în filme. Uneori lin, de cele mai multe ori zbuciumat (despre rolul sau de spion în al doilea război mondial pentru serviciile secrete americane și britanice în scopul scoaterii României din alianță cu Germania s-a speculat mult, dar s-a vorbit prea puțin cu adevarat), sufletul ei rămanand insa mereu, profund românesc. Întreaga viață a cules de prin satele țării cântece vechi, populare, și le-a cântat într-o manieră inconfundabilă, adâncă și sublimă. Iar românii au divinizat-o. Atât de mult încât în ciuda testamentului lăsat în urmă, în care marea artistă își dorea o înmormântare simplă și anonimă, jumătate de București a condus-o pe ultimul drum...

S-a stins acum 49 de ani, în 22 iunie, dar steaua ei continuă să strălucească. Ne-a dăruit necondiționat atât de mult, că niciodată nu i-am putea mulțumi pe deplin!... Poate măcar la anul, când vor fi trecut deja 100 de ani de la nașterea și 50 de ani de la moartea sa, îi vom putea spune recunoscători "Multumim, Mărie!” împlinindu-i unica cerința avuta către noi, săpându-i FÂNTÂNA într-o bucată de pământ însetat, așa cum a lăsat cu limbă de moarte.

Si poate că astfel, blestemul "celor ce iubesc si lasa" va fi, în sfârșit, ridicat...



We all come to this world with a flame carried inside. For some of us it dimly flickers, neither warm nor cold. In others, it burns quietly, just enough for a lifetime. Long, steady, without major ups and downs. And there’s also the “chosen ones” in which there’s an unceasing blaze, always consuming them before their time, on the altar of those fated to be sacrificed. A necessary sacrifice so that the first ones can grow.

Maria Tanase was such a PERSON. She was an alchemic fusion of feminine beauty, worthy of a great diva of black and white cinematography, of talent, strength and passion, of simplicity and authenticity closely woven with an extraordinary refinement and good taste. She lived her life blustering, embracing it with all her forces, a life under the mark of the verb “to love”. She gave herself completely in both relationships and on stage.

Born in 1913, in one of Bucharest’s suburbs, Caramidari, the third child of Ana Munteanu and florist Ioan Coanda Tanase, as a child Maria grew among Romanian folklore songs sung by his father’s workers in the garden and traditional funeral songs which she usually sneaked to the cemetery to listen to. Blessed with a strong personality, completely atypical for that time’s social inhibitions, she leaves home when 16 to attend Miss Romania contest. She fails the swimming suits test, but a young doctor falls in love with her and leaves her with child. She performs an abortion and sadly, the decision leaves her without the possibility of ever having a child, this being the only greatest regret of her life. The bitterness and pain sprung from this unfortunate event were powerfully expressed later on in her way of interpreting her songs.  And perhaps this unfulfillment of motherhood was one of the reasons who led to the breast cancer, spread to lungs, that killed her when only 49 years old.

She gradually conquered Romania, Paris, America. She lived a sophisticated life, like a movie, sometimes smoothly, most of the times stormy (they speculated a lot about her spying role for the British and American secret services in order to get Romania out of her alliance with Germany during WW2), but her soul always remained profoundly Romanian. Her whole life she collected Romanian folklore from villages all over the country and sung them in a unique, deep and sublime manner. And the Romanians deified her. So much that in spite of her testament, stating the wish of a simple, anonymous funeral, half of Bucharest walked with her on her last road…


She burnt down 49 years ago, on 22nd of June, but her star is still glowing strongly.  She unconditionally offered us an immense legacy insomuch that we will never be able to thank her enough!... And maybe next year, when 100 years since her birth and 50 since her death would have passed, we will be able to gratefully tell her “Thank you, Maria!” and answer the sole request she had for us, made on her dying bed: to dig a WELL on a thirsty piece of land in her name. 

And thus, the curse on “those who betray love” may finally be lifted… 



... "Those who betray love" (or "Curse")




5/26/2012

Step by step


“Asa cum cartile se citesc cuvant dupa cuvant, la fel si drumurile se strabat pas cu pas” citeam deunazi  intr-una din cartile mele de suflet, Sky burial. De cate ori nu alegem insa o scurtatura, crezand ca vom atinge aceeasi destinatie?...


"Just as books are to be read word by word, so the roads are to be taken step by step"  i was reading the other day in one of my dearest books, Sky burial. But how many times do we choose a shortcut, believing we'll reach the same destination?...







Shigeru Umebayashi : Lovers ("House of Flying Daggers" 2004)

5/12/2012

no story


nici o poveste pentru broderiile de astazi. doar cateva imagini, o sambata insorita si un cantec. fiti fericiti!
***
no story for today's embroidery. only a few images, a sunny Saturday and a song. be happy!








Francis Cabrel - Je t'aimais, je t'aime et je t'aimerai

4/30/2012

A table for two


In the last years I couldn’t help to notice an increasing demand and attention for quality food: bio products and organic fruits and vegetables. Which is a very good thing. Step by step we’re getting closer to what agriculture should be, to what it used to be for us, for our animals and for the lands.
At the same time I couldn’t help to notice an increasing tendency towards sickness. And even though medicine developed a lot, technologically speaking, giving the possibility of tracking down severe diseases in very early stages of evolution, and new drugs are to be found in hospitals and pharmacies, we get sicker and sicker as years go by.
Sure, the factors are numerous: air pollution, radiations, noise pollution, the city hastiness, the apparent lack of time that makes us constantly live in a hurry and so on… But we all want a better life and for that maybe the easiest thing to be changed is our way of feeding.

What we seem not to have noticed yet is that the way we eat and the attitude we have during our meals are just as important as food itself if not more important.
It matters if we are calm and comfortable when we sit down to eat, it matters if we eat consciously and by that be aware of how our meal really tastes, aware of whether we really like it not, aware of the effect it has on our body and aware of whether the kind of food we eat is a necessity for us or not. It matters if we are grateful for the generous gifts of the land or for the sacrifice of the animal who's meat we are consuming. 

If we don’t keep in mind these “minor details” as well, no matter how bio or organic our food is it will always be ineffective. 
It will always be alimentation instead of nourishment.   




Am remarcat in ultimii cativa ani, o tot mai mare cerere si atentie pentru alimente de calitate:  produse bio si fructe si legume organice. Ceea ce este un lucru foarte bun. Ne indreptam astfel incet, incet catre ceea ce ar trebui sa insemne agricultura, catre ceea ce a insemnat agricultura odata. Pentru noi, pentru animalele noastre, pentru pamant.
In acelasi timp, am mai remarcat si o tendinta crescuta catre a ne imbolnavi. Si chiar daca medicina a evoluat mult din punct de vedere tehnologic, oferind posibilitatea depistarii unor boli extrem de grave in stadii incipiente de evolutie, iar noi si noi medicamente pot fi gasite in spitale si farmacii, devenim tot mai bolnavi pe zi ce trece.  
Desigur, factorii sunt numerosi: aerul poluat, radiatii, poluarea fonica, graba neintrerupta a orasului, aparenta lipsa a timpului ce ne determina sa ne traim vietile mereu pe fuga s.a.m.d… Insa cu totii ne dorim o viata mai buna, iar in acest sens, poate cel mai usor lucru de facut este sa ne schimbam obiceiurile alimentare.

Ceea ce insa nu pare ca am fi remarcat inca, este faptul ca modul in care mancam si atitudinea ce-o avem in timpul mesei sunt la fel de importante ca mancarea insasi, daca nu chiar mai importante.
Conteaza daca ne simtim calmi si confortabili cand ne asezam la masa, conteaza daca mancam in mod constient, putand simti astfel adevaratul gust al mancarii, daca aceasta ne place cu adevarat sau nu, ce efect are ea asupra organismului nostru si daca alimentele pe care le mancam ne sunt necesare sau nu. Conteaza daca suntem recunoscatori pentru poamele generoase ale pamantului sau pentru sacrificiul animalului a carui carne o consumam. 

Daca nu vom avea  in vedere si aceste “mici detalii” , indiferent de cat de bio sau organica ne este mancarea, acesta va fi mereu ineficienta.  
Va fi mereu doar alimentatie, nu hranire.  






Yanni - Nightingale

4/22/2012

Earth day. Every day.



The sweet smell of a great sorrow lies over the land
Plums and smoke rise and merge into the leaden sky
A man lies and dreams of green fields and rivers,
But awakes to a morning with no reason for waking.


He's haunted by the memory of a lost paradise
In his youth or a dream, he can't be precise
He's chained forever to a world that's departed
It's not enough, it's not enough.


His blood has frozen and curdled with fright
His knees have trembled and given way in the night
His hand has weakened at the moment of truth
His step has faltered.


One world, one soul
Time pass, river roll...


And he talks to the river of lost love and dedication
And silent replies a swirl invitation
Flow dark and troubled to an oily sea
A grim intimation of what is to be.


There's an unceasing wind that blows through this night
And there's dust in my eyes that blinds my sight
And the silence that speaks so much louder than words,
Of promises broken...


2/28/2012

Martisorul


Sarbatorit in fiecare an la 1 Martie, Martisorul  este una din sarbatorile traditionale romanesti, cu vechi radacini geto-dace.  
Datand de peste 8.000 de ani – primele dovezi arheologice care-i atesta existenta  pe teritoriul tarii fiind descoperite la Schela Cladovei in judetul Mehedinti -  obiceiul Martisorului reprezinta un ritual de innoire a timpului si a anului, odata cu moartea Dochiei, urmata de renasterea ei simbolica, la 9 Martie. Tragandu-si seva din stravechile credinte si practici agrare in cadrul carora soarele ocupa un loc central, Martisorul exprima victoria soarelului si, invariabil a luminii, asupra intunericului iernii. Incepe astfel primavara, cand intreaga natura renaste din cenusa anului ce tocmai s-a incheiat.

***
Celebrated every year on 1st of March, Martisorul (Romanian pronunciation [mərtsiʃor]) is a folk Romanian tradition, with old Dacians roots.

8.000 years old (the first archaeological evidence attesting its existence on our country’s territory had been made in Schela Cladovei, Mehedinti County), the custom of Martisor represents a renewal ritual of both time and year, along with Dochia’s death (the correspondent of goddess Gaia) followed by her symbolic rebirth, at March the 9th. Feeding out of ancient agrarian beliefs and habits, who worshiped the Sun, the Martisor expresses the Sun’s victory over the darkness of winter. Hereby spring arrives, when all nature comes to life, reborn from the ashes of the year that had come to a close. 




Format din doua snururi rasucite, unul de culoare rosie, celalalt de culoare alba, Martisorul era purtat timp de 12 zile sau pana la aparitia primelor semne autentice ale primaverii - inflorirea ciresilor, sosirea berzelor etc., ulterior fiind legat de creanga unui copac, avand rol protector impotriva frigurilor si a bolilor in general. cele doua culori nu sunt deloc intamplatoare, rosul reprezentand sangele, vitalitatea si deci, principiul feminin, iar albul claritatea si luciditatea principiului masculin, din impletirea lor inseparabila luand mereu nastere viul. 

In vremuri si mai vechi, snurul se impletea din fire de canepa sau lana, de culoare alba si neagra, simbolizand aceeasi contopire a contrariilor, creatoare de echilibru si de viata. 

***
Formed out of two twisted strings, one red and the other white, the Martisor was worn for 12 days or until the first authentic signs of spring – the blooming of cherry trees, the arrival of storks etc. – and had a protective influence against fever and sickness in general.  The two colours are not by any chance accidental, red representing blood and vitality, therefore the feminine spirit and white the lucidity and rational mind of the masculine spirit, of whose inseparable interlace life appears.

In even older times, the braid was stranded from hemp or wool strings, coloured in black and white, symbolizing the same merging of opposite principles, in germinating equilibrium and life itself. 




Despre Matisor exista insa si multe legende.

Povestea spune ca-ntr-o buna zi, jinduind la bucuria si pofta de viata a oamenilor, Soarele a coborat la hora, luand infatisarea unui fecior chipes. Un zmeu l-a pandit si l-a rapit dintre oameni, inchizandu-l intr-o temnita. Lumea s-a mahnit tare: pasarile nu mai cantau, izvoarele isi incetasera curgerea, copiii nu mai erau vazuti razand. Dar nimeni nu indraznea sa-l infrunte pe zmeu. Pana intr-o zi, cand un voinic s-a hotarat sa plece si sa salveze soarele. Multi dintre pamanteni l-au condus si i-au dat din puterile lor ca sa-l ajute in lupta, sa poata iesi invingator. Drumul voinicului dura 3 anotimpuri: vara, toamna si iarna. In cele din urma, gasi castelul zmeului si incepura lupta. S-au infruntat zile intregi pana cand zmeul fu doborat, iar tanarul reusi sa elibereze soarele. Reintors pe bolta cereasca, Soarele reinvie natura si readuse bucuria oamenilor. Insa voinicul, ranit si sleit de puteri, nu mai apuca sa se bucure de sosirea primaverii. Sangele sau cald, se scurse din rani in zapada. Iar cand aceasta se topea,  rasareau flori albe: ghioceii, vestitorii primaverii.


***
There are also a lot of legends about Martisor. 

One story says that one day, yearning for the happiness and joy of life that men had, the Sun came down to a rural dance celebration (hora), as a handsome young man. But a dragon lurked and kidnapped him from among people and locked him in a cave. The world saddened deeply: birds stopped singing, streams ceased their flowing and even the children gave up laughing. However, no one dared confront the dragon. Up to a day when a courageous young man decided to leave and try and save the Sun. Many of the people showed him the way and gave him their powers, in order to help him into battle and win the confrontation. The young man travelled for 3 seasons: summer, autumn and winter. Finally, he arrived at the dragon’s castle and the battle began. They fought for many days until the dragon had been defeated and the Sun released. Returned on the celestial vault, the Sun brought nature back to life along with the joy of the people. But the courageous young man, wounded and weakened, didn’t live to see the arrival of springtime. His warm blood dripped from his wounds, wetting the snow. And while the snow melted, white flowers sprung: snowdrops, the messengers of spring.






Si daca legenda spune ca Soarele a coborat printre pamanteni la hora, cultura traditionala romaneasca a lasat in urma ei si o Hora a Martisorului, interpretata magistral de maestrul Ion Voicu, la vioara sa Stradivarius. Aproape ca putem simti tumultul vietii clocotind, gata sa izbucneasca la suprafata.

***
And if the legend says the Sun came down among humans, to dance a hora with them, the Romanian folk tradition even left us a “Hora of Martisor”, magically performed by maestro Ion Voicu on his Stradivarius violin. You can almost feel the tumult of life breaking out of the earth.







De asemenea, o alta reprezentare personala a Martisorului puteti vedea aici. Va multumesc!
***
If you please, here you can see another personal representation of this Romanian solar celebration. Thank you!

Mai multe detalii interesante despre acesta frumoasa sarbatoare a romanilor, puteti gasi mai jos: