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■ The oak
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2006-08-19 | [This text should be read in romana] | Submited by Anghel Pop
Bătrâna Meg era țigancă
și locuia pe deal... în seară dormea pe pat de iarbă neagră, căci casa ei era afară. In loc de mere - murii oacheși, stafide-avea păstăi de câmp... bea vin din roua bălăriei, drept carte-o piatră de mormânt. Ca frații se avea cu munții, ce multe zade sore-avea... dar chiar de-avea atâtea rude trăia unde-i plăcea să stea. Nu prea mânca de dimineață, n-avea nici prânzul la-ndemână, dar se holba în loc de cină cu îndârjire drept în lună! Ci își făcea în zori ghirlande din fraged caprifoi, râzând, și tisa văii-ntunecate ea noaptea o-mpletea cântând! Cu mâini bătrâne, vinețite, urzea din papuri rogojini și le vindea pe la țăranii ce-i întâlnea peste colini. Era vitează ca Regina, o amazoană-naltă, și atât avea: mantaua-n umeri și cușma-n cap... Oriunde-ar fi s-o odihnească Domnul mult, căci a murit așa demult! Meg Merrilies Old Meg she was a Gipsy, And liv'd upon the Moors: Her bed it was the brown heath turf, And her house was out of doors. Her apples were swart blackberries, Her currants pods o' broom; Her wine was dew of the wild white rose, Her book a churchyard tomb. Her Brothers were the craggy hills, Her Sisters larchen trees-- Alone with her great family She liv'd as she did please. No breakfast had she many a morn, No dinner many a noon, And 'stead of supper she would stare Full hard against the Moon. But every morn of woodbine fresh She made her garlanding, And every night the dark glen Yew She wove, and she would sing. And with her fingers old and brown She plaited Mats o' Rushes, And gave them to the Cottagers She met among the Bushes. Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen And tall as Amazon: An old red blanket cloak she wore; A chip hat had she on. God rest her aged bones somewhere-- She died full long agone!
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