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Autor: Floarea Cărbune         Publicat în: Ediţia nr. 1521 din 01 martie 2015        Toate Articolele Autorului

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Tired of the fiest on his honour , on the 24th February, Dragobete had a rest on a fir tree bed under an old oak. Dragobete , or Stormy , is the love god at Romanians, everybody knows it. Even the children. He was not sleeping when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Looking behind he saw a branch hooked of his cloth. 
-What is this? What happened? The young asked surprised. 
-Don`t be afraid, it`s time to tell you a secret, the old tree told him. 
-Can`t you postpone? I`m tired. I want a rest. 
-No, I can`t. Tomorrow I`ll be sacrified, the people surround me will cut me because I am too old. The people don`t respect the forest, they don`t consider it sacred, as their forerunners did and I don`t want to be lost the story. 
-Which one? 
The Legend of the Trinket. Do you know it? 
-No, I didn`t hear it. 
-Now listen to it, but don`t interrupt me not to lose the thread of the story. 
-I`ll listen to you attentively, you know I think much of you. 
When there happened what I want to tell , the forest was as a temple and among its vivid pillars the wandering wind penetrated gaily bearing the stories from one ground edge to the other. So, the story arrived at me. Not to be lost, I`ve hidden it in the roots like a precious treasure. A secret treasure for the people followers who lived on these saint places –the Dacians. 
Some days later from the Love Fiest, the fiest devoted to you , Dragobete. The twilight surrounded slowly the forest , the snow began to melt, and the forest scents charmed and troubled the people with serene heart.All the people were waiting even I felt a thrill inside. Drasgobete listened charmed. His eyes were half shut and the heart pulsated madly. As in a dream he heard the story going on. What I`m going to story happened long ago in a night of February. There were some hours and people had to pass over the threshold to the next month-March.The Mount was bathed in the silver rays of the Moon. And the stars brightness reflected in thousands crystals of the snow. Sometimes the silence was interrupted by an unexpected fall of a fir cone. I have not been sleeping yet I meditated at the Spring coming. Then I was young , my buds were ready to get leaves, already, somewhere in the valley cornel trees flourished. And staying and thinking I felt a warmy wind, which penetrated among fir trees shaking the snow on the branches. There is the dawn, the sky began to be reddish to the East , a sign that there was no more until the sun was rising. Sincerely speaking I didn`t feel when night was over , the last night of the February . When I have recovered it was already the 1st March. 
Still dizzy I heard a sound that was strange in the silence before the sun rising. Firstly I thought it was the wind but the sound resembled to a groan, someone was asking for help. I didn`t see but the snow blanket set all over. Could have been the murmur of the brook at the rock foot? Could have been the wind that gamboled among the trees crowns? I couldn`t realize . 
When the sound became lower I noticed by my trunk , a very beautiful virgin. She was delicate , with a white face as the marble, with goldish hair on the shoulders, long and blond eyelashes which hid two eyes, blue as the violets. Her leg was short and delicate and the whole being emanated heat, love and a discreet scent . On her shoulders she wore a mantle in the emerald colour, on which flowers, butterflies, and birds, as vivid ones, were painted and on her head she wore an eternal flowers crown. She seemed from another world. I felt her body to be hot and.. oh, my Lord , for a moment I thought I am a man but when I wanted to embrass her, I realized I was powerless. The flood of the inner substance ran madly, from roots to the top. I needed some moments to recover. Then I realized the sound came from a white bell, risen above the snow and what appeared to be a groan was , in fact, the triumph song. The delicate bell pierced the snow in order to announce the Spring coming. 
-Do you understand, Dragobete? The girl that embrassed my trunk , transferring of her heat, was a Fairy. The Spring Fairy. The splendid song was heard by her , but poor snowdrop, this was the name of the bell, rose under a thorny bush. Happily and full of compassion for the frail snowdrop she began to get off the thorny branches. Winter , put on nerves, called for the north wind which breathed over the snowdrop .. and froze it. The mild Spring covered the frail bell with its warmed palms. But , not being attentively the Fairy hurt in a thorn and a drop of blood got on the snowdrop. The heat of the blood gave powers to the flower to recover. So , winter was overcome. Since then , the red in the Trinket cord symbolizes the Spring blood…got down on the snow whiteness. 
The wise people say in the meaning of the legend there is the truth. Who wants to know it, may know 
Floarea Cărbune 
Referinţă Bibliografică:
LEGEND OF THE TRINKET / Floarea Cărbune : Confluenţe Literare, ISSN 2359-7593, Ediţia nr. 1521, Anul V, 01 martie 2015.

Drepturi de Autor: Copyright © 2015 Floarea Cărbune : Toate Drepturile Rezervate.
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