Vizirul Ibrahim



Vizirul Ibrahim

și-a pierdut turbanul

odată cu cheia cetății.

Doar numele i-a rămas,

pe ici, pe colo.

Raiaua străjuită de Dunăre

la ambele capete

a înflorit în libertate rară.

Fluviul i-a oferit

tot ce avea mai bun.

Bună înțelegere, frăție,

un val de prosperitate

pentru toți cei îndrăzneți.

Tezaurul grânelor hrănea Europa toată.

Portul forfotea, clădind o viață nouă.

Pe urmă, ceața deasă, grea,

a învăluit orașul pentru destui ani.

Babilonia de limbi a amuțit.

Într-un târziu, a reapărut soarele.

Până și Dunărea era pe jumătate secată.

Unde ești, vizirule, să vezi

câți dintre urmașii alor tăi

mai vin în vizită acum?

Salcâmii și castanii au fost tăiați.

Clădirile îmbătrânesc la fel ca oamenii.

Doar briza Dunării ne încurajează speranța.


Marea Unire

centenar dulce2

Marea Unire

De multe sute de ani se șoptea

că frații trebuie să fie împreună.

Dușmanii ne-au preferat mereu despărțiți,

să-i ascultăm supuși.

A curs mult sânge vitejesc

până a topit, pe rând,

frontiere absurde.

Steagurile au înflorit în inimi,

cântecele au înflorit pe buze

și s-a strigat FRĂȚIE,

întâi peste o apă,

apoi peste altele și peste munți.

Prima horă s-a jucat la Milcov.

Alta, în Dobrogea.

Una la Chișinău, și a urmat

un noiembrie înflorit în Cernăuți.

A venit vremea Horei Mari de la Alba Iulia,

aproape perfectă,

jucată în amintirea celor jertfiți

în atâtea războaie pentru împlinirea unirii.

În Unire stă puterea…

Când se-adună frate cu frate…

Noi de ce vrem să schimbăm

dansul popular atotcuprinzător al străbunilor

pe unul de multe perechi?

Christmas carols Before the Mast


The story above doesn’t belong to me, but it is suitable. However, these below are a few known carols adapted during the years for the athmosphere Before the Mast – the Age of Sail RPG (ie interactive swashbuckling adventure story) we are writing together for 6 years and 5 months already:

Christmas in the West Indies

Christmas Season in the West Indies has its charm,
No matter if in the cities of in the pirates’ realm.
There is no snow the European mother country to remind,
But it’s closer to the athmosphere the Divine Child
Was actually born under the star in the Middle East.

On islands and on ships it’s an important feast.
Catholics are building rich scenes of Nativity,
Rhum and punch flow on the throats free,
A good luck coin is hidden in the King’s cake
If yours’, then choose your Queen, for party’s sake!

Pirates and colonists tonight will toast
With warmest season’s greetings BEFORE THE MAST!


I saw three ships

I saw three ships aboard the site
“Before the Mast”, “Before the Mast”
I saw three ships ready to fight
In the West Indies at war time.

And who was in those ships all three,
“Before the Mast”, “Before the Mast”,
And who was in those ships all three,
According to their prior agreement?

Captain Crawford and Raoul were there,
“Before the Mast”, “Before the Mast”,
And Sharky with his privateers,
In the West Indies at war time.

Pray, wither sailed those ships all three,
“Before the Mast”, “Before the Mast”,
Pray, wither sailed those ships all three,
In the West Indies at war time?

O they sailed into the straight
“Before the Mast”, “Before the Mast”,
Wanting the pirate ship to fight,
In the West Indies at war time.

And all the bells on earth shall ring,
“Before the Mast”, “Before the Mast”,
That gunned down the “Siren” sank,
In the West Indies at war time.
Then let us all rejoice again,
“Before the Mast”, “Before the Mast”,
That those we love did survive,
In the West Indies at war time.

(The peace is settled already for a while… and all the ships mentioned there got sunk in battles some years ago).


Deck the site

Deck the site with gimps and holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
For the holidays to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

We have weddings, fun and contests,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
And witty negotiations,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

See the story grow before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Strike the keys and join the chorus.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Follow us and write to measure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
And you’ll surely get a treasure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Fast away the old plot passes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Hail the new, ye lads and lasses,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Let’s write joyous, all together,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Contests to win, story to further,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.


Poems from my youth

My love

My love is like the sea,
with no boundaries.
I love, like the sea,
the shore who rejects it.
If I were able to look into your eyes
deeply and fearlessly
their black flames would swallow me.
I would get drown happily
in the deep lakes of your eyes –
but I haven’t this luck.

(written at 15)


I am a bedless river,
without sun and fish.
I am only a handful of clay
untouched by the Creator’s hand.
I am a river
streaming from caves of sadness,
sunshine never caressed my waves.
But people found gold ore of kindness
on my shore
and they drained me.
I am a river looking for its bed,
across rocky mountains,
a handful of clay looking for its shape,
maybe to become a jug
to be sung afterwards by Omar Khayam.

(written at 14)


My hopes are withering away,
and inside me it is raining endlessly hot ash.
Oh, the hot ash of my tormented soul!
Friendship is fading away
without intention –
only fate is to blame.
If I were far away, sadness
would have avoided me,
but I can’t be back there.
In a shell of distress
my heart is melting quietly,
life is melting quietly.
My soul wants to mourn, but the tear stops –
I’m so lonely, that even tears refuse me!
Look, in the way of my life
a dragon appeared, born out of evil minds.
It has hundreds of mouths, and one
will surely swallow me.
It’s only up to me
to succeed in getting rid of it.
So, the seagull of my soul
cries loudly, suffocated
by the invincible glass cage
whose prisoner I am.
I must keep hoping
that the dragon protects
love’s kingdom.

(written at 14)

I’ve turned my heart into a star

My heart is a burning star
in the flames of long – lost love
whose last drop of poison I am drinking.
I’ve turned my heart into a star
to launch high in the Universe my hot love,
but stars’ life is warmth, and I’m lonely.
My heart is a shining star
radiating kindness, help and comfort for everyone.
Why nobody thinks a star needs also these?
My heart is a lighting star
longing for a beautiful romance,
and despair is devouring it.
My heart is a silver star
full of youth’s clear dreams.
When dreams vanish, stars die.
I’ve turned my heart into a star
to heal my endless pain,
but even stars are twins.

(written at 16)

The black man’s lament – An executioner’s tale

I am the disdained one
Who carries out orders, to survive.
They call me the black man, under my mask.
How many people I have killed
In ten years of service?

I haven’t counted; I can’t do it.
I had been, once, a butcher and a slave.
My master, the magistrate, promised me freedom
And a good pay from the city’s coffers.
Could I have refused then? Now I wish I did.

My family has never starved since then,
Even if eating modest meals.
I was promised to be able to manumit my children
When they’d be of the right age.
My son didn’t wait; he ran away to freedom while young.

Ten years when I saw the last gaze of convicted
Men and women; even children who had as only blame
They stole a coin to survive, or they were born to wrong parents.
From the rich, disgraced victims, I had also the right
To lawfully get their expensive shoes and sell them afterwards.

Today I wish I died only a slave,
The butcher who had never killed a human being.
The crowd shouts, the execution must go on, I must hit.
I’m looking in the eyes of the pirate I have to execute
And I can’t kill my own long estranged son.