Miorita si Becali  

Thrown (Ţâpat) in

Aflu de la Simona Tache despre o noua declaratie Becali, simultan razboinica si luminoasa. Si dintr-un foc, public Miorita insotita de traducerea engleza, pe care n-o gasesc intotdeauna cand o caut.

From Mihai Stanescu

Simona ne zice cum ca omu’ a dat o declaratie ca el nu se uita la alte femei prea des fiindca nu-si permite: de cate ori se uita, ii moare o oaie. Sotia i-a ramas pan-acum in viata. Probabil de-asta el se infrupta cu predilectie din gay porn (Udrea in VC? – tudor, desigur)

Revenind la oile noastre, iata Miorita in engleza, franceza, spaniola, germana si rusa, impreuna cu alte cateva versiuni (Grigore Lese):

 

Pe-un picior de plaiu,
Pe-o gura de raiu,
Iata vin în cale,
Se cobor la vale
Trei turme de miei
Cu trei ciobanei
Unu-i Moldovean
Unu-i Ungurean
Si unu-i Vrâncean.

Iar cel Ungurean,
Si cu cel Vrâncean,
Mari se vorbira,
Ei se sfatuira
Pe l'apus de soare
Ca sa mi-l omoare
Pe cel Moldovan
Ca-i mai ortoman
S'are oi mai multe,
Mîndre si cornute,
Si cai invatati
Si cîni mai barbati!...

Dar cea Miorita
Cu lîna plavita
De trei zile'ncoace
Gura nu-i mai tace,
Iarba nu-i mai place.

- Miorita laie,
Laie, bucalaie,
De trei zile'ncoace
Gura nu-ti mai tace!
Ori iarba nu-ti place,
Ori esti bolnavioara,
Draguta Mioara?

- Dragutule bace!
Da-ti oile'ncoace
La negru zavoi,
Ca-i iarba de noi
Si umbra de voi.
Stapîne, stapîne,
Iti cheama s'un cîne
Cel mai barbatesc
Si cel mai fratesc,

Ca l'apus de soare
Vreau sa mi te-omoare
Baciul Ungurean
Si cu cel Vrâncean!
- Oita bîrsana,
De esti nazdravana
Si de-a fi sa mor
In cîmp de mohor,
Sa spui lui Vrâncean
Si lui Ungurean
Ca sa ma îngroape
Aice pe- aproape
În strunga de oi,
Sa fiu tot cu voi;
In dosul stînii,
Sa-mi aud cînii,
Aste sa le spui,

Iar la cap sa-mi pui
Fluieras de fag,
Mult zice cu drag!
Fluieras de os,
Mult zice duios!
Fluieras de soc,
Mult zice cu foc!
Vîntul cînd a bate
Prin ele-a razbate,
S'oile s'or strînge
Pe mine m'or plînge
Cu lacrimi de sînge!
Iar tu de omor
Sa nu le spui lor.
Sa le spui curat
Ca m'am însurat
Cu-o mindra craiasa,
A lumei mireasa;
Ca la nunta mea
A cazut o stea;
Soarele si luna
Mi-au tinut cununa;
Brazi si paltinasi
I-am avut nuntasi;
Preoti, muntii mari,
Paseri, lautari,
Pasarele mii,
Si stele faclii!

Iar daca-i zarii,
Daca-i întîlnii
Maicuta batrîna
Cu brîul de lîna,
Din ochi lacrimînd,
Pe culmi alergînd,
Pe toti întrebînd
Si la toti zicînd:

Cine-au cunoscut,
Cine mi-au vazut
Mîndru ciobanel
Tras printr'un inel?
Fetisoara lui,
Spuma laptelui;
Mustetioara lui,
Spicul grîului;
Perisorul lui,
Peana corbului;
Ochisorii lui,
Mura cîmpului!...

Tu Mioara mea,
Sa te'nduri de ea
Si-i spune curat
Ca m'am însurat
Cu-o fata de crai,
Pe-o gura de rai.

Iar la cea maicuta
Sa nu spui, draguta,
Ca la nunta mea
A cazut o stea,
C'am avut nuntasi
Brazi si paltinasi,
Preoti, muntii mari,
Paseri, lautari,
Pasarele mii,
Si stele faclii!...

(Vasile Alecsandri version)

Near a low foothill
At Heaven’s doorsill,
Where the trail’s descending
To the plain and ending,
Here three shepherds keep
Their three flocks of sheep,
One, Moldavian,
One, Transylvanian
And one, Vrancean.

Now, the Vrancean
And the Transylvanian
In their thoughts, conniving,
Have laid plans, contriving
At the close of day
To ambush and slay
The Moldavian;
He, the wealthier one,
Had more flocks to keep,
Handsome, long-horned sheep,
Horses, trained and sound,
And the fiercest hounds.

One small ewe-lamb, though,
Dappled gray as tow,
While three full days passed
Bleated loud and fast;
Would not touch the grass.

”Ewe-lamb, dapple-gray,
Muzzled black and gray,
While three full days passed
You bleat loud and fast;
Don’t you like this grass?
Are you too sick to eat,
Little lamb so sweet?”

”Oh my master dear,
Drive the flock out near
That field, dark to view,
Where the grass grows new,
Where there’s shade for you.
”Master, master dear,
Call a large hound near,
A fierce one and fearless,
Strong, loyal and peerless.

The Transylvanian
And the Vrancean
When the daylight’s through
Mean to murder you.”
”Lamb, my little ewe,
If this omen’s true,
If I’m doomed to death
On this tract of heath,
Tell the Vrancean
And Transylvanian
To let my bones lie
Somewhere here close by,
By the sheepfold here
So my flocks are near,
Back of my hut’s grounds
So I’ll hear my hounds.
Tell them what I say:

There, beside me lay
One small pipe of beech
With its soft, sweet speech,
One small pipe of bone
Whit its loving tone,
One of elderwood,
Fiery-tongued and good.
Then the winds that blow
Would play on them so
All my listening sheep
Would draw near and weep
Tears, no blood so deep.
How I met my death,
Tell them not a breath;
Say I could not tarry,
I have gone to marry
A princess – my bride
Is the whole world’s pride.
At my wedding, tell
How a bright star fell,
Sun and moon came down
To hold my bridal crown,
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests; my priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.

But if you see there,
Should you meet somewhere,
My old mother, little,
With her white wool girdle,
Eyes with their tears flowing,
Over the plains going,
Asking one and all,
Saying to them all,

’Who has ever known,
Who has seen my own
Shepherd fine to see,
Slim as a willow tree,
With his dear face, bright
As the milk-foam, white,
His small moustache, right
As the young wheat’s ear,
With his hair so dear,
Like plumes of the crow
Little eyes that glow
Like the ripe black sloe?’

Ewe-lamb, small and pretty,
For her sake have pity,
Let it just be said
I have gone to wed
A princess most noble
There on Heaven’s doorsill.

To that mother, old,
Let it not be told
That a star fell, bright,
For my bridal night;
Firs and maple trees
Were my guests, priests
Were the mountains high;
Fiddlers, birds that fly,
All birds of the sky;
Torchlights, stars on high.”

Traducere in engleza de
Translated in English by 
W. D. Snodgrass

Parles cols fleuris
Seuils de paradis,
Vois, descendre, prestes,
Des jardins célestes,
Trois troupeaux d’agneaux
Et trois pastoureaux:
L’un de Moldavie,
Deux de Valachie.
Or, ces deux bergers,

Ces deux étrangers,
Les voici qui causent,
Dieu! ils se proposent
De tuer d’un coup,
Entre chien et loup,
Ce pastour moldave,
Car il est plus brave,
Il a plus d’agneaux,
Encornés et beaux,
Des chevaux superbes
Et des chiens acerbes.
Or, voici trois jours,

Qu’à nouveau, toujours!
Sa brebis cherie
Reste, la, marrie,
Sa voix ne se tait,
L’herbe lui déplait.

-,,O, brebis bouclée,
Bouclée, annelée,
Depuis quelques jours
Tu gemis toujours
L’herbe est-elle fade
Ou es-tu malade;
Dis-moi, cher trésor
A la toison d’or?

,,Maître, mon doux maître
Mène-nous pour paître
Dans le fond des bois
Où l’on trouve, au choix,
De l’herbe sans nombre
Et pour toi de l’ombre.
Maître, o maître mien!
Garde auprès un chien,
Le plus fort des nôtres,

Car, sinon, des autres
Te tueront d’un coup
Entre chien et loup”.
-,,O, brebis liante,
Si tu es voyante,
Si ce soir je meurs
Dans ce val en fleurs,
Dis-leur, brebis chère,
De me mettre en terre
Pres de tous mes biens,
Pour ouïr mes chères.
Puis, quand tout est prêt
Mets à mes chevet:

Un pipeau de charme,
Moult il a du charme!
Un pipeaux de houx,
Moult est triste et doux
Un pipeau de chêne,
Moult il se déchaîne!
Lorsqu’il soufflera
Le vent y jouera;
Alors rassemblées,
Mes brebis troublées,
Verseront de rang
Des larmes de sang.
Mais, de meurtre, amie
Ne leur parle mie!
Dis-leur, pour de vrai,
Que j’ai épousé
Reine sans seconde,
Promise du monde;
Qu’a ces noces-là
Un astre fila;
Qu’au dessus du trône
Tenaient ma couronne
La Lune, en atours,
Le Solei1, leurs cours,
Les grands monts, mes prêtres,
Mes témoins, les hêtres,
Aux hymnes des voix
Des oiseaux des bois.
Que j’ai eu pour cierges
Les étoiles vierges,
Des milliers d’oiseaux
Et d’astres, flambeaux!...

Mais si tu vois, chère,
Une vieille mère
Courant, toute en pleurs
Par ces champs en fleurs,
Demandant sans cesse
Pâle de detresse:

-Qui de vous a vu,
Qui aurait connu
Un fier pâtre, mince
Comme un jeune prince?
Son visage étail
L’écume de lait;
Sa moustache espiegle,
Deux épis de seigles;
Ses cheveaux, si beaux,
Ailes de corbeaux;
Ses prunelles pures
La couleur des mures!

Toi, dis-lui, qu’au vrai
J’avais épousé
Reine sans seconde,
Promise du monde,
Dans un beau pays,
Coin du paradis!

Mais, las! à ma mère
Ne raconte guère
Qu’à ces noces-la
Un astre fila;
Qu’au dessus du trône
Tenaient ma couronne:
La Lune, en atours,
E Soleil, leurs cours,
Les grands monts, mes prêtres,
Mes témoins les hêtres,
Aux hymnes des voix
Des oiseaux des bois;
Que j’ai eu pour cierges
Les étoiles vierges,
Des milliers d’oiseaux
Et d’astre flambeaux!…

Tradusa in limba franceza de
Traduit en francais par Ion Ureche

Al pie de los montes,

Boca del Edén,

Por una cañada

Bajan hacia el valle,

Bajan tres rebaños

Con sus tres pastores.

Uno es de Moldavia,

Otro transilvano

Y otro de la Vrantcha

Éstos dos, un día

Caliente de estío,

Cuando iba en los prados

A caer la tarde,

Quisieron matar

Al pastor moldavo,

Pues era el más rico

De los tres, teniendo

Muchas más ovejas,

Muchos más corderos

Y perros valientes

Y fuertes caballos.

Pero una cordera,

Una “mioritza”,

Después de tres días,

Enlanguideciendo,

Jamás se callaba.

-Mi amada cordera

De rizada lana,

¿Por qué estás hablando

Desde hacetres días?

¿Es que no te gusta

La yerba que paces?

¿Es que estás enferma,

Mi triste cordera?

-¡Ay, pastor, mi hermano,

Lleva tus rebaños

Hacia el bosque umbrío!

Tú allí tendrás sombra

Y pasto nosotros.

Dueño, dueño mío,

No olvides llevar

Tus perros más fieros,

Porque hacia la tarde

Los otros pastores

Te quieren matar.

-Cordera de barsa,

Mi buena mioritza,

Mi amada cordera

Si eres adivina

Y a mí me mataran,

Diles a esos pastores

Me entierren en el

Redil más cercano,

En donde os ordeñan,

Para que yo pueda

Oir a mis perros,

Pues yo estaré allí.

Tú, mi mioritza,

Entierra conmigo

Mi flauta de haya

Con su voz silvestre,

Mi flauta de hueso,

De dulce murmullo,

También mi zampoña

De saúco que canta

Tan cálidamente.

Y el viento que sopla

Las hará sonar.

Vendrán los corderos

Llorando y vertiendo

Sobre mí sus tristes

Lágrimas de sangre.

No les digas nunca

Que a mí me mataron.

Di que me casé

Con una gran reina,

Novia de la tierra,

Que en mi casamiento

Un astro cayó,

Que sin nube alguna,

La Luna y el Sol

Me dieron corona,

Que en el festín tuve

Los pinos por huéspedes,

Las más altas copas

Por cantores y

En las verdes hayas

Millares de pájaros.

Si, por el contrario,

Vieras a una madre

Que viene trayendo

Un cordón de lana,

Llorando, llorando

A través del prado

Preguntando a todos

Y a todos diciendo:

-¿Quién na conocido

Y quién el que ha visto

A un bravo pastor,

Delgado y esbelto,

El talle de anillo,

Bello, noble y alto,

Su rostro más fresco

Que espuma de leche

Bigote lustroso,

Color de la espiga,

Los cabellos negros

Como ala de cuervo,

Brillantes los ojos

Cual mora del campo?,

Dile si la ves,

Mi buen mioritza,

Con gran compasión,

Que yo me casé

Con una gran reina,

Novia de la tierra,

Que al pie de los montes,

Boca del Edén,

Durante mi boda

Un astro cayó,

Que fueron los huéspedes

Del festín los pinos,

Popes las montañas

Y, entre los hayedos,

Cantores los pájaros,

Los astros, antorchas.

Tradusa in limba spaniola de

Traducido por
María Teresa León y Rafael Alberti

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Tradusa in rusa de

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?. ???????

In einer Bergesschlucht,

In einer Himmelsbucht,

Siehe, den Weg dahin,

Siehe, zu tale ziehn

Drei Herden schafe klein

Mit ihren Hirten drei’n.

Einer ein Moldausproß;

Der Wuchs in Ungarn groß;

Jener im Vranceaschloß.

Doch, der aus Ungarn kam,

Den aus der Vrancea nahm

Heimlich beiseit zu Rat,

Sannen auf schnöde tat:

Daß sie im Abendrot

Den aus der Moldau tot-

Schlügen, der Reicher wär;

Hätte der schafe mehr,

Stolze, gehörnte,

Pferde, gelernte,

Hunde von schärfrer art!

Doch jenes Lämmchen zart,

Schwarzvlies, so anders ward:

Seit dreien Tagen schon

Gab es nur klageton,

Fraß auch vom Grase nicht.

”Lämmchen, mein dunkles Licht,

Dunkles Licht, Schwarzgesicht:

Seit dreien Tagen schon

Gibst du nur klageton,

Frißt auch vom Grase nicht-

Sag, schafft dir krankheit Pein,

Herzliebes Lämmchen mein?”

”Schäfer mein, liebster mein:

Laß unsre weide sein

Drunten im schwarzen hain-

Dort gibt es Gras für mich,

Dort kühlt der Schatten dich!

Höre, o Herr, mein Flehn:

Laß einen Hund mitgehn,

Den du den stärkstein weißt,

Den du dir Bruder heißt!

Denn schon im Abendrot

Bringen sie dir den Tod:

Der aus der Vrancea schoß,

Und er, der Ungarnsproß!”

”Lämmchen aus burzengrund!

Ist dir die Zukunft kund,

Und Soll am Wiesenrain

Dieses mein Ende sein,

So sag dem Ungarnsproß,

Dem aus der Vrancea bloß,

Daß mir am anger frei

Das Grab bereited sei:

Unter der Hürde da

Bleib ich euch immer nah,

Hinter der Hütte traut

Hör ich der Hunde laut.

Dies sag getreu.

Doch mir zu Häupten sei

Flöte vom Buchenstamm

-Viel tönt sie liebesam-

Flöte aus weißem Bein

-Viel tönt sie sanft und rein-

Flöte aus Holderschaft!

-Viel tönt sie feuerkraft!

Wenn dann der Windhauch gent

Und durch die Flöte weht,

Drängen die Schafe sich,

Weinen sie Bitterlich

Tränen aus Blut um mich!

Aber vom Mord

Sag du kein Wort!

Sag ihnen Frei:

Daß ich vermählet sei

Mit einer Himmelsbraut;

Als es die Hochzeit gab,

Fiel hell ein Stern herab;

Sonne und Mondenglanz

Hielten den Hochzeitskranz,

Espe war, Tanne war

Unter der Gästeschar;

Berge die Priester war’n

Spielleut die Vogelschar’n

-Mochten wohl tausend sein-

Sterne: der Fackelschein.

Aber erblickst du hier,

Oder begegnet dir

Mein altes Mütterlein,

Gürtel aus Wolle rein

Weinend und klagend,

Irrend im Feld allein,

Alle befragend

Und allen sagend:

”Sagt mir, wer weiß um ihn,

Sagt mir, wer sah ihn ziehn,

Ihn, meinen Schäferheld,

Schlank, durch den ring gestrählt?

Sein liebes angesicht

Ist wie der Milchschaum Licht; Sein lieber bart ist weich,

Ähren des weizens gleich;

Den rabenfedern gar

Gleich glänzt sein liebes haar;

Der lieben augen glanz

Gleicht reifen brombeern ganz!”

Lämmchen, dem Mütterlein,

Sollst du ein tröster sein,

Sag ihm getreu:

Daß ich vermählet sei

Mit einer stolzen frau

In einer himmelsau.

Aber dem Mütterlein

Sag nicht, o Lämmchen mein,

Als es die Hochzeit gab,

Fiel hell ein Stern herab;

Espe war, Tanne war

Unter der Gästeschar;

Berge die Priester war’n,

Spielleut die Vogelschar’n

-Mochten wohl tausent sein-

Sterne: der Fackelschein…”

Tradusa in limba germana de

Übersezt von
Alfred M. Sperber

Sus la verdele din munti

La iarba pâna-n jenunti

Sun’ tri-lei pacurarei,

Hei, cei mai mari îs veri primari

Da’ pi cel mai mic ii strainel

Ca si-o luna de inel

Da’ pi tat îl suie si-l aduna

Cu oile la pasuna

Da’ pi tat îl suie si-l scoboara

Cu oile la izvoara

Facu-i lerjea sa-l omoara

Tu tâie ce moarte-ti vrei

Vrei de pusca-mpuscat

Or’ de sabie dimnicat

Fratâlor, fârtatâlor

Voi daca mi-ti omorî

Pa mine sa ma-ngropati

În strunguta oilor

Da’ pi, în tarcutu’ mieilor

Da’ pa mine pamânt nu puneti

Da’ pi, numa’ guba sânguré

Si-un fluier dupa curé

Susuoara de-a dreapta

Voi sa-mi puneti tilinca

Când vânt mare a sufla

Tilinca a tilinca

Fluieru’ a fluiera

Oile tate-or zdiera

Hei, oi, oi, oi mândre balai

Da’ pi, mândru mi-ti cânta pa vai

Oi, oi, oi mândre cornute

Da’ pi, mândru mi-ti plânje pa munte

Oi, oi, oi mândre saine

Da’ pi, mândru mi-ti plânja pa mine

Si mamuca-auzi

S-a veni si m-a jali

Cu cina calda pa masa

Si cu apa race-n vasa

Sa-i vie slujbuca-acasa.

Varianta culeasa si interpretata de
Grigore Lese

Erau 3 zile fara rost
Si 3 ciobani fara adapost
Unul era un pic mai prost
Stia voltajul pe de rost
O oaie avea gura mare
Spunea ca vor sa mi-l omoare
El nu si nu vor sa ma-nsoare
Baiat destept nevoie mare.

Refren: Ce vina avea saraca oaie
Ca ciobanul n-avea coaie? (x2)

Erau 3 zile fara rost
Nici iarba nu era ce-a fost
Oaia il tot avertiza
El tot la party se gandea

Refren: Ce vina avea saraca oaie
Ca ciobanul n-avea coaie?

De aia am ajuns asa
Miorita oaia mea
D-aia am ajuns asa
Resemnarea-i tara mea
D-aia am ajuns asa
Miorita oaia mea
D-aia am ajuns aia
Resemnarea-i tara mea.

Refren: Ce vina avea saraca oaie
Ca ciobanul n-avea coaïe?

Omul cu sobolani – Antimiorita



Ada Milea - Miorita

Miorita lata,
Lata, bucalata
Mai incearc-o data
Sa ma scoti din balta
Unde m-or bagat
Si m-or inecat
Oamenii cu cap
Ca sa nu mai scap X2

Miorita lata,
Vine sa ma scoata,
Da-s adanc infipta-n balta,
Prea adanc infipta-n balta,
Si-am murit deodata.
Miorita-i moarta
Seara-i ingropata
Jupuita toata

Miorita laaaaata…

Mariutza(?)...lasa-n drum carutza
I-o hora cu dj'ei, joaca basmalutza
Lautaru' Hancu si'o luat avantu'
La pas chitara zguduie pamantu'(?)

Ia la joc fetitza, de la sucevitza
O roscovana ii sprijina portitza
Mai cu sarm mamuca (?)
Roade iar papucu
Nici nu sta..cine vrea..hai la hora mea

Hai la hora s'om dansa, nu te da nu te lasa
Nu te da, nu te lasa d lunea pan' vinerea
Gave a kiss and broke my heart
Now i'm lonley as can be...
Can't u be or can't u see...u're the only one for me..

P'un picior de plai...let's get high
Sarbatoare mare, nunta cu alai
Vin la hora'n vale, din alte mahale
Si pe sus si pe jos si pe cal calare
E o melodie in plina armonie (?)
Pentru voi, pentru noi, pentru veselie
Canta lautare..zi mai tot mai tare...
Nimeni nu sta, cine vrea, hai la hora mea

Am dansat, ne'am sarutat...dupa hora ai plecat
Mi se frange inima, dar asa e dragostea
U're my man, i'm your bride
Hold me tight and dance all night
And the angels up above
Tell me why(?) my only love

Hip-Hop lie..in sat e cumatrie(?)
Mare bucurie mi'a facut sotzia
Am sa chem fanfara, sa rasune tzara
Un ficior floare (?) are primavara
Zi MC Vasile, canta 2 zile
Pan' nu pot, pan' nu pot..really really really
Sar totzi sar totzi uite'asa(?)
Nimeni nu sta..cin vrea hai la hora mea

Hai la hora s'om dansa, nu te da nu te lasa
Nu te da, nu te lasa d lunea pan' vinerea
Gave a kiss and broke my heart
Now i'm lonley as can be...
Can't u be or can't u see...u're the only one for me..

Uite asa....

la-la-la-la...

P'un picior de plai...let's get high
Sarbatoare mare, nunta cu alai
Sar totzi sar totzi uite'asa(?)
Nimeni nu sta..cin vrea haï la hora mea

Zdob si Zdub

Stradania de a patrunde intelesul baladei a nascut multe carti si referate, cateva listate in surse si toate facand referire la alegoria moarte-nunta cea faimoasa. Alecu Russo se entuziasma pe drept cand a gasit-o din exil. Pana azi a fost culeasa in nenumarate versiuni, cea a lui Alecsandri fiind cea mai cunoscuta. Balada a fost supusa si multor interpretari. Nicolae Boboc, de pilda, vede in ea o moarte rituala. Este interesant de citit cum o vad strainii. In cartea "Steagul Insangerat", despre nationalismul post-comunist in tarile Europei centrale si de est, Juliana Geran Pilon o considera un exemplu al spiritului idiosincratic al romanilor. Ea leaga complotul impotriva moldoveanului de cantecul Aerosmith Eat the Rich si reuseste sa-i bage si pe tigani in explicatie. Iata mai jos fragmentul cu pricina:

English Explanations

Summary (wikipedia)

The setting is a simple one: three shepherds (a Moldavian from Vrâncea, a Transylvanian and a Valachian) meet while attending to their flocks. An apparently enchanted ewe belonging to the Moldavian tells its master that the other two are plotting his murder and the plundering of his assets.

The shepherd replies that, were this to happen, the ewe is to ask his killers to bury his body by the sheep's pen. She is to then tell the rest of his sheep that he had in fact married a princess during a ceremony attended by the elements of nature themselves, and marked by the falling of a star. However, the rite of passage metaphor discards all celestial reference in the version of the story the ewe is to depict to the shepherd's mother: she is to hear only of her son having married a princess.

Overcoming the Spirit of Miorita (BloodyFlag)

One of the most popular ballads in Romania, called Miorita, offers an interesting example of the idiosyncratic spirit of Romanians. It is a nostalgic, lyrical, tragic story about three shepherds – a Moldavian, a Transylvanian, and a Vrancean – the first being warned by his lamb Miorita that the other two are going to kill him because he is wealthy and has more sheep. The doomed man’s response is to ask the lamb to tell the other two to bury him in the meadows near his sheep, so that he may be near his beloved woods, the birds, the stars. He then asks the lamb to urge everyone not to speak of death but rather to tell everyone – especially his teary-eyed mother who will be looking for him – the he has married a prince’s daughter at heaven’s gate.

It is a beautiful poetic story, whose main thrust is a profound love of nature and a stoical acceptance of destiny. Yet beyond this, the reader is struck by several other – moral – factors. In the first place, there is the appalling idea that two men plot to kill a richer one and the latter makes absolutely no effort to resist, accepting it as an inevitable course of destiny. Absent is any sense of justice, any need for vengeance, or any demand for retribution.

In one respect, therefore, the spirit of Miorita appears quite positive: a Christian sense of peace and lack of rancor. Yet one is reminded of the quiet passivity during the Ceausescu era, when the Romanian people accepted their fate without apparent turmoil. Is this the answer to Romania’s current problems – a sense of great forgiveness on the part of those who may have been wronged? A sense of metaphysical tranquility, a love of nature, the simple things in life?

Not if this means, in fact, a false serenity: for surely it is only human to feel rage against injustice. Nor should one so readily accept “fate”; rather, one should seek to affect the course of history – for that path to a healthy sense of control and self-esteem. But above all there should be no deception about reality. The Moldavian shepherd who is the intended victim of his less wealthy “friends” tells the lamb to convey a pretty but inaccurate story.

This will not do. The Romanian people, if they are to overcome hostilities against each other – whether ethnic or social (or a combination of both) – will have to retrieve a sense of justice, which implies meting out punishment when this is feasible, as well as a sense of control over their destinies. This implies an optimism based not on illusion and lies but on self-assurance and truth. There will still be plenty of room for the profound sense of unity with nature, with the beautiful Romanian countryside.

Until it is no longer accepted that someone who is richer (or poorer, as in the case of the Gypsies), or speaks another language, or has different rituals – having nevertheless violated no one’s rights – should be killed, indeed that someone who is unsuspecting, a friend, should be so treacherously deceived, the Romanian people have no future.

Si tot Simona il invata de bine pe Razboinicu’ Luminii, cum ca mai bine vinde Steaua en detail (retail), ca sa nu-i moare oile de fuoame..

Surse: Becali si oile, Razboinicul Luminii, wikiM, traduceri, mp3, NicolaeBoboc, BloodyFlag, DorinStef,

Referate: rr, pref, ref

Thank you for reading (mulţam fain pentru cetire)! Publicat Monday, February 02, 2009 . Similar articles under the following categories (poţi găsi articole similare sub următoarele categorii): (Subscribe) . Dacă ţi-a plăcut articolul, PinIt-uieste-l, ReddIt-eaza-l, stumble-uieste-l altora, trimite-l pe WhatsApp yMess şi consideră abonarea la fluxul RSS sau prin email. Ma poti de asemenea gasi pe Google. Trackback poateputea fi trimis prin URL-ul de sub Comentarii.
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