Medieval Roots of Present Europeans

Medieval Literature

Sofia Bulgaria

Medieval Literature FROM BulgariaMEDIEVAL STORY

The creation of BULGARO-SLAVIA kingdomBy Sonya Balai

In 969 in Bulgaria there were two great kingdoms. The two leaders Ismail – the leader of Izma and Peter – the leader of Veishaly were trying to do the best for the good of their kingdoms. They were fighting about everything for many years. There was envy between them. Ismail and Peter were enemies.

The people from Izma that were in Veishaly (or the opposite) were treated like animals. The leaders even didn’t want to hear about each other…

Battle after battle Veishaly took everything from Izma. But Ismail was a proud king and had to defeat Peter and his army. Suddenly Ismail declared a war to Peter. But this time he was prepared and Veishaly’s army was very tired and they lost. But Peter himself was terribly hurt. His horse took him in a forest and he was followed by Izmalian soldier. Peter was too weak but with last efforts he hurt the soldier and took his clothes. Then, dressed like a soldier from Ismail’s army, wearing the sign of their army (the face of Ismail) he went into Izma kingdom. No one recognized him. Then the king’s sister Victoria saw he was hurt and started looking after him. Day by day she was getting closer and closer to him and they fell in love. When Peter was ready to tell her the truth, he was disclosed by the army that he was an enemy. Peter was sent to prison. Victoria was told the truth too and she left the kingdom. Her love was stronger and she couldn’t watch how Peter was tormented in the prison…

Ismail was too proud. When he came to know what had happened and that Peter himself was in prison he felt that he must let him out of there because it was said that if a king is kept as a hostage to another king brings bad luck. After he went out of there Peter started searching his beloved girl Victoria. But she was caught from Veishaly’s army because they thought it was all her fault their king to have bad luck. And when Peter understood she was there he ordered them to let her out. Ismail came to him and said “Thank you”. He said he was looking for her everywhere and he had thought she was dead. Ismail asked Peter what he could do for him. And Veishaly’s king said he wanted to marry Victoria.

After the marriage the two kingdoms united and became one called Bulgaroslavia, and Victoria and Peter lived happily ever after.

Painted by Antonia GenchevaMedieval Literature FROM Bulgaria

MEDIEVAL POEM Holy Mary

By Pavlina Gancheva

Holy Mary, rejoice!Blessed Mary, Lord is with You!

Blessed among the womenBlessed is the child in your womb

Because you gave birth to the Redeemer of our souls.

Богородице Дево, радвай се!Благодатна Марие, Господ е с Тебе!Благословена си Ти между жените

И благословен е плодът на Твоята утробаЗащото си родила Спасителя на нашите души.

Medieval Literature FROM POTRUGAL

Medieval Winter

Nagka was a small and peaceful village surrounded by mountains. All its residents knew each other well. However, it had a problem: the weather. When it wasn't snowing it was either raining or very foggy. Sunny days were unknown to its citizens... only occasionally did travelers rumor about a distant country filled with rivers, flowers and enough food to live happy forever.

Jack was an adventurer. He knew Nagka well and had explored the mountains and all its surrounding landscape. He wanted more. His father forced him to become a painter and honor the family tradition; Jack the Painter is how they called him. Every sunset, he ventured into the unknown to paint mountains, lakes and trees. During the day, he worked in the library as a writer. Nagka was so isolated that almost everything was produced there as well. Jack wrote poems; every kind of poem imaginable.

In one of his journeys, Jack found a marvelous spot to paint a waterfall he had never seen before. It was so relaxing that he fell asleep. He woke up a few hours later and saw a monstrous creature. He wanted to paint it, but he was too scared. Eventually the monster fell asleep and Jack made a very accurate and beautiful painting of the creature. He hung the painting in the library where it was instantly loved: everyone wanted to see it.

Amidst the turmoil walked a young and beautiful lady whom Jack had never seen before. He didn't believe in love at first sight, but now he did. She saw the painting and was intrigued. However, with the rest of the crowd, she vanished as quickly as she came.

A week later, Jack was writing when the beautiful young lady approached him. She wanted to read something and maybe Jack could help her choose. He read her some of his poems and she loved them. Her name was Ariella. Soon, they were seen taking long walks in the village. Ariella

told him wonderful stories about her hometown: a warm and distant place. He was fascinated because he didn't understand how such a place could exist.

Jack wrote Ariella dozens of poems. They explored the village together and Jack took her to places that nobody else had seen before. Ariella loved the cold weather because it was different for her. Jack wanted something warmer… maybe a place where he could swim everyday and enjoy the heat without worrying to stay out too late, because in Nagka being lost in a cold night meant death.

One day, Jack took Ariella to the place where he found the creature. It was really beautiful. They had a very deep conversation, one that occurs once or twice in a lifetime. He promised Ariella that if anything happened, he'd look for her even if that meant going to the last corner of Hell.

In the interim, Jack's father was furious. How could his son, who had demonstrated excellent abilities to paint and write, spend his time with a foreigner? This had to stop. Jack was sent away, even though he didn't want to. Then Jack's father, along with Nagka's rich citizens who wanted to read more poems and see more paintings, ordered Ariella to leave, demanding that Nagka was for Nagkans and no foreigners were allowed.

Jack came back at night, almost freezing, because this year's winter was the worst in recorded history. The different atmosphere and coldness from his father told him something was wrong, but he went to bed out of exhaustion. His younger brother woke him up early the next day and told him what happened. Jack looked everywhere for Ariella and confirmed what he feared all along: she left.

Just as he was leaving to continue the search elsewhere, and old lady approached and handed him a letter. It contained a few words: "Meet me in that place." He knew exactly where to go. It was getting late, but he kept running, fearing the worst... she had spent the night there after all. What he witnessed next can only be described with one word: shock.Ariella was sleeping between two of the creatures. They saved her life. Jack ran to her, in tears, expressing his affection. They hugged for a long time until Reality reminded him of the situation. He was a few hours away from home and spending another night there meant death. During the long walk back, Ariella reminded him of her home. They agreed to go the day after.

Jack's father was worried because it was dark and Jack wasn't home yet. Maybe he shouldn't have done what he did? No, Jack will be back. He spent the whole night thinking about the worst. Then a week. Every day he hoped for Jack's return, his faith diminishing with every passing hour. Until the unavoidable news arrived: A hunter found a couple holding hands, frozen to death, with a barely-noticeable smile of love.

Medieval Poem“Meu Amor…”

Meu amor, leva-me contigoQuando, quando???O meu coração está por ti partido!

Leva-me contigo, meu queridoO meu coração está desesperadoQuando, quando é que vens???

A minha alma está longeO meu coração está doenteQuando vens? Virás!

Tu estás sempre aí, não estás?Vem para mimEu estou sempre aqui para ti!

“My Love…”

My love, take me with youWhen, when???My heart is broken by you!

Take me with you, my darlingMy heart is desperateWhen, when are you coming???

My soul is always awayMy heart is illWhen are you coming? You will!

You are always there, aren’t you?Come to meI am always here for you!

Medieval Literature FROM ITALYMedieval story

A WOMAN CHARGED WITH BEING A WITCH IS BROUGHT TO A COURT, THE JUDGE IS A BISHOP AND THE WOMAN IS A POOR CRAFTSWOMAN. IN THE CITY THERE IS THE PLAGUE.

J:” Have you recited hymns to the devil and have you invocated him a lot of time to make our terrible illness, continue to provoke deaths among, haven’t you?”

W: “No, I haven’t. They are only lies.”

J: “don’t deny, tell us the truth.”

W: “I swear on my little child: they are only falsities.”

J: “Would you also like to deny that you have been seen, trying to spill a malefic potion near the cathedral to spend the disease.”

W: “Yes, it isn’t time.”

J: “Whip her on her back, so that she can confess her witchcrafts. Tell me, woman, why does Don Mario maintain it? Don Mario, is she the woman that you saw, isn’t she?”

Don Mario: “Yes. She is the one that I saw that might covered with black mantle, and bended to pour her poison: Let’s condemn her with a big punishment.”

W - Crying, despairing, shouting -: “No, it cannot be true. It’s impossible. I have always been at home to look after my ill daughter. She is bound to die.”

J: Flagellate her!

b: God, help and free me from this desperate situation.

J: God, doesn’t want to free you! This means that you are a really guilty! This is the definitive evidence; now you only have to confess, witch! I will repeat the question: Are you the one heard to invoke the Evil and that has spread that mysterious substance, responsible for the illness that had killed a lot of us?

<She doesn’t answer>

J: Whip her a bit, to make her talk

W: Stop stoop, yes! I’m a witchJ: People! We have discovered the cause of all our problems! You are condemned to be buried alive at the stake

People: We want the witch at the skate!J: Justine will be done!

Medieval Literature FROM ITALY

Medieval story

A beautiful and rich prince of Scot1and Sigmund, lived in a huge castle on the higher hill of the village, where he could control all his territories. The most beautiful princesses in the world went to this castle to ask him to marry them; but most of them didn’t really love Sigmund, they were just in love with his money and his wonderful castle.

A morning when the beautiful prince got up, he had a desire: he wanted to fall in love with a lady that really loved him and wasn’t interested in his richness or his fame. So he started to think about the realization of his desire, walking for a long time in his castle garden. While he was going for

a walk near the farmers that were working in his fields, he saw a couple of farmers that were happily married and had a family with sons and daughters. Immediately he had an incredible idea: he thought that he could wear a farmer’s clothes and he could go to the princess’s court: he wanted a lady to fall in love with him, that liked his personality and his beauty.

The following day he went to the small house of a farmer to ask him if he could give him the oldest and worn out clothes that he had. The farmer unwillingly gave his clothes to Sigmund. After putting the clothes on, he started walking in the streets of his village. Everybody looked at him in a strange way: he was funny and clumsy. He got around different villages until he saw the most popular castles of the time as he wanted to speak with the princesses living there.

Every princess greeted him but as soon as he asked them to marry him the princess sent him away. After visiting different courts for years, one day he met a beautiful princess called Elizabeth. He asked for help saying he was poor and hungry and so she welcomed him in her big castle. She helped him, she gave him new and clean clothes.

Time went by and Elizabeth found out she had fallen in love with the poor farmer, who behaved as a gentleman and was so beautiful. So she asked him to marry her. By then he was so in love with her that he accepted without doubts.

The wedding was completely organized by Elizabeth’s court, in which everybody was discussing about this absurd marriage between a princess and a farmer. During the wedding there were all the kings and Queens, Princes and Princesses that had driven Sigmund away. But suddenly Sigmund revealed to everybody his real identity. Elizabeth and her court were happier than before but the other princesses went away crying and bowing their heads for the humiliation.

Princess Elizabeth and Prince Sigmund lived together forever.

Medieval Literature FROM ITALY

POEMS ABOUT LOVE

It’s fire what I feelWhen those eyesCross with mine.

I would cryThinking how much beauty

God and natureHave given us.

She seems an angel fallen from the sky.

Stars with their brightnessAren’t comparable

To her light.While she plays the harpWhile she sews gently

While she discusses softlyWith her maidservants.

And knowing you’re not mine I’m still crying and my heart,

I give it to you until the last dayOf this useless and empty life

of mine. (of my useless and empty life)

It’s enough, a g1ance, And I loose myself,

Those hands, her owns,While she weaves gently,

While she sings softly,Whi1 she dance gracefu11y

And my eyes can’t look at her (and my eyes can’t stand her

sight)There’s such a light

That breaks into my eyes (g1ance)

And my heart.She’s like a sun that makes

grow The feeling inside me

And without her it’s only dark(ness), cold.

A life knowing I can’t have herIt’s like a life lived in an

everlasting sleep Without awakening.

Medieval Literature FROM POLANDThe Battle of Legnica

On April 9, 1241 at Legnickie Pole, the army of Henry II the Pious was defeated by the army of Paidar, the Mongol commander. Today, when I am 64, I would like to tell you what I have lived through.

We stood opposite the enemy, the cruel Mongols. The number of their soldiers was much bigger than ours.

Duke Henry II divided his forces into four sections: in the first there were the Teutonic Knights, the Templars, the volunteers of different nationalities and the miners from Goldberg (Złotoryja); in the second the knights from Cracow. The Silesian knights from Opole, under Mieszko, were the third unit. I was standing with my fellows, the volunteers from Greater Poland and Silesia, in the fourth regiment, under Henry's personal command. I was from Chudów, a castle near the town Mikołów.

Our enemies were very frightening – short, slant-eyed, sitting on their small horses. They had primitive armament, mainly arches and curved swords. We were praying to God for victory and for the end of the Mongols who were spreading death and destruction.

The Duke ordered the first troop to start, and then the rest of regiments were supposed to join. After Henry had signalled, the first unit initiated combat. The ground was trembling under our steeds’ hooves. The Tatars began running away when they saw the power of our charge and the strength of our knights but our army did not follow them. We knew that it could be a trap. Then our enemies surrounded us and began a murderous fire. Noticing it, Henry signalled the rest of our units into the battle.

When we moved to attack I was paralysed by fear. I was only 17 at that time and it was my first battle. Our charge was spreading, our lances were aimed at our enemies and my fellows, in their full harness, were speeding towards the odious barbarians. The close combat was terrifying. You could hear the terrible clash of arms, of broken lances, the roar of mounts which were being killed and the moans of the dying soldiers. The Mongols started retreating again, Henry’s regiments pursued them. It was such a huge mistake! Suddenly some of the Mongols’ side detachments beset us and started shooting. The new bands of enemy warriors were arriving and arriving. The Duke Henry II was in the middle of the battle, surrounded by the Tatars. We were all fighting very bravely, heedless of their superiority.

All of a sudden, the battlefield covered with thick, pungent smoke. I thought I saw a dragon belching with fire. Our people could not see anything: that smoke hid everything. The Tatars had used it to hide their movements and to confuse us. That hell favoured them. One of our soldiers was shouting: Run! Run! It was a complete chaos; shots were coming from everywhere, killing my friends. The enemies launched an assault at Henry’s troops. While the Mongol lights cavalry attacked from the flanks and the heavy cavalry attacked from the front, the Mongol archers peppered our forces with arrows.

Together with a few friends of mine, we managed to run away from that encirclement and we headed for the castle in Legnica. It was a place where mother Hedwig was waiting for her son’s return. Unfortunately Henry II the Pious did not come back. He was killed and beheaded. His head was impaled on a spear and sent to his mother. When she saw it she broke down. However, she was strong enough to order the defence of the castle and the rest of Silesia. We were praying for a miracle and our prayers were granted.

Several days after the battle of Legnica the Tatars withdrew from Poland and Silesia to Hungary. After the death of the main Mongol commander Batu-Chan, the other Mongol leaders started fighting with one another.

Europe was saved and from that moment Silesian chroniclers were dividing the time between before and after the Mongol invasion.

It was written down in a monastery in Trzebnica by Martin von Chudów himself.Anno Domini MCCLXXXVIII

MAGIC CATALOGUEChapter VIIION IDOLATRY, WHICH IS PRACTISED BY WOMEN DOING WITCHCRAFT OVER CHILDREN.

The, so called, virus of idolatry has been passed by Eve, the first mother, on her daughters, that is, tupid women who want to know more than they should.

Coping Eve, women want to know a lot, but not knowing themselves they do many vain things, which lead them to idolatry.

When you ask what they do giving birth to their children, you will find out that:1. They put very delicate, newborn children to sacks so that they sleep there.2. They steal a bouchon, which is used for cleaning stoves, and they wash babies with it.3. They put rabbits’ ears, moles’ paws and many other things into a cradle to quieten their

children. Ask about the words they whisper doing it and you will hear many surprising things.4. Apart from that, when these women are taken from the place, where they have given birth,

to their beds, they make preposterous spells.5. They take a bath in a vessel which is tied with a string.6. An egg is put to the first child’s bath and then it is eaten by the child’s father.7. The water from that first bath is poured out onto father’s hands.8. The rest of water is poured out near the fence of the other woman in childbirth, so that her

child cries but not theirs.

Chapter IXON GIRLS’ AND EVIL WOMEN’S WITCHCRAFT.

To be liked by others:1. Having a bath or putting their jewels on they utter some strange words.2. Not only do they prey but they rather cast spells by means of various herbs.

When they get married they practise some magic to be loved by their future husbands and to live with them happily ever after.

1. They prepare special cakes made from their body’s hair and blood.2. They kill a hen and then they make a powder from its heart. That powder is added to their

husbands’ meals.3. Moreover, the nettles soaked in their own urine, the bones of the dead, the wood from the

graves and many other things are thrown into fire. All of them are supposed to burn just like the love of their husbands supposed to do.

4. It is hard to imagine what these women and girls do with frogs, holy oil, hallowed water and comunnion host.

CHAPTER XON WHICHCRAFT WHICH LEAD TO HAPPINESS

To secure happiness for themselves and to live off the fat of the land they practise what God hates:

1. At the beginning of Lent they eat meat for better harvest.2. They make a sacrifice to three pagan sisters, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, to gain wealth.

3. They strut on pillows.4. On Thursday, some of them make odd things with eggs.

Medieval POEM FROM POLAND“The Witch” by Roksana KrotlaFire will burn up her heart,Because she has birthmark on her neck.

Flames will lick the blush from her cheeks,The last sign of life,Because a peasant knows that She’s been picking herbs.

She loves nature,That pale girl in purple.Bloody sacrifice she has to payFor love for her children of the green space.Swelter kindles her like in fever,Her lips are chapped,From eyes sad river comes out.It’s a picture of grudge,An evidence of despair, But for a crowd of onlookers It doesn’t matter.“Hurt her strongly,Humiliate the girl,Let her feel the taste of Last Judgement!”Whisper is spreading,It’s swelling to shout,In front of people,The candle of life Belonging to the young girl,Is burning out.The scream of pain rendedThe blue over a stake.In silence it touchedThe sublimity of heaven,Then settled entailing A dew of mother’s cry.Murderers were standing and watching,What did they see?They saw the witch there, The awful and evilServant of the devil.But when you gazeLike a human,As a person with heart,You can see the poor, young girl,In front of the hating crowd,Who’s holding a small cross in her little hand. „Czarownica”, Autor:Roksana Krotla

Za chwilę ogień strawi jej serce, za to,Ze na szyi nosi znamię.

Płomienie zliżą z liców czerwień,Oznakę życia,Bo chłop widział ziół zbieranie.

Miłością darzy świat naturyTo blade dziewczę pośród purpury.Krwawą ofiarę za to oddaje,Za lasu dzieci umiłowanie.Żar ją rozpala jakby w gorączce,Usta spękane, oczy płaczące.Obraz to żalu,Świadectwo rozpaczy Dla tłumu gapiów nic on nie znaczy.

„Skrzywdźcie ją mocno,Niech się ukorzy,Niech diabła służka Sąd poczuje Boży.Szept się rozszerza,W krzyku narasta,Przed ludźmi gaśnie w ogniu niewiasta.Krzyk bólu rozdarł błękit nad stosem,W ciszy się zmierzył z nieba patosemI opadł, wznosząc łez matczynych rosę.Mordercy stali i patrzyli.Co dostrzegali?Oni widzieli tam czarownicę,Paskudną diabła oblubienicę.

Kiedy jednak spojrzeć na to ludzkim okiem,Widać dziewczynę młodą,Lecz ubogąI kiedy każdy w nią nienawiść ciska,Ona w drobnej ręce mały krzyżyk ściska...

Medieval POEM FROM POLAND“The Medieval Touch”by Roksana Krotla

When you visit a museum, settled in an old castle,Firmly step by step,You fulfil your adamant resolution,Not to see anything.

A bad man, an evil lord is glancing out of his painting,Rusty armours are clashing with their swords,White ladies are changing their moods like their gowns,Once scaring, once tempting you.But does it really matterWhen you look, But don’t want to see anything?!

You mope around, despising the old beauty.But try to stop the time, By closing your eyes just for the moment…Run into the darkness of medieval times,Which will disperse soon.

Touch the blade of the forgotten weapon, And a bloody battlefield will emerge in front of your eyes.Feel on your skin the touch of medieval cloth, eaten by clothes moth,And you will see the group of jugglers, playing funny roles.

Be sensitive to illusory commonness,

Which conceals the secrets obediently.Unachievable, for bored onlookers, wondersAre revealed those unique with imagination…

„Dotyk średniowiecza” Autor: Roksana Krotla

Gdy odwiedzasz muzeum w zamku urządzone,Twardo punkt po punkcieWypełniasz niewzruszonePostanowienie, aby nic nie zobaczyć.

Groźny pan, władca z portretu swego łypie,Szczękają mieczami pordzewiałe zbroje,Białe damy jak suknie zmieniają nastroje,To strasząc Cię,To nęcąc.Lecz cóż to znaczy,Kiedy Ty patrząc,Nic nie chcesz zobaczyć?!Snujesz się z kąta w kąt,Gardząc pięknem starym.

Spróbuj sprawić, by stanęły zegary,Tylko na chwilę zamykając oczy.Pobiegnij w ciemność wieków średnich,Która niebawem trochę się rozproszy.Przejedź palcem po klindze zapomnianej broni,A odsłoni się przed Tobą krwawej bitwy pole.Poczuj na skórze dotyk tkaniny, zżartej przez mole,

To przed oczami staną Ci kuglarze,Odgrywający śmieszne role.

Wyczul swe zmysły na pozorną zwyczajność,Która pokornie skrywa tajemnice. Nieosiągalne dla znudzonych gapiów,

Pokazują się cuda Tylko wyjątkowym,Ludziom z wyobraźnią...

Medieval LITERATURE FROM ROMANIAVlad The Impaler

„Dracula” is a well-known legendary character in the Romanian mythology and he became a symbol for Romania .In fact he was a king who reigned in Walachia in the middle of the XV century . His real name was Vlad Ţepeş. The Chronicles mention several legends referring to the great personality of Vlad Ţepeş. Here, there are two of them:

By using severe punishments, such as impalement (piercing with a sharp stake), king Vlad Ţepeş (the Impaler) frightened the dishonest and the thieves. Nobody dared to take possession of a thing, which did not belong to him. The king wanted to see whether dishonour and robbery disappeared in the country. He placed a big and beautiful golden cup at the crossroads, near a fountain with good water. He said: “Let the wayfarers drink from it cold, good water, and then place it back. The only guard to watch over it should be everybody’s honesty.”

Actually, as long as king Vlad reigned, thousands of wayfarers admired that priceless cup, drank water from it and placed it back, softly. Nobody dared to steal it. Honesty ruled all over the country.

One morning however, a woman discovered that the priceless cup was no longer near the fountain: some evildoer had stolen it. Deeply grieved, the woman said: “You need to know that Vlad, the merciless enemy of all robbers and oppressors, is no longer king.”

It was told that in 1462 the enemies had invaded Walachia. King Vlad and his army had retired in the hilly part of Târgovişte destroying all the crops and poisoning the fountains behind them, so the enemies couldn’t find the necessary supply.

The Chronicle says that the tyrant crossed the Danube and he found no man, no animal, no food or water to drink for seven days.

One day he arrived to a beautiful place, here he saw a green orchard with thousands and thousands of stakes planted in the ground loading, instead of fruit, impaled dead men.

Seeing these awful things, the tyrant got afraid and during the night, he dug ditches and raised hillocks all around the camp.

But king Vlad attached when it was still dark and the enemies were sleeping. He rushed at the right part of the camp, got inside and killed many enemies. At dawn, the Walachians retired and went to sleep. When the tyrant woke up, he saw that all his men were killed. He crossed the Danube and went home covered with shame.

Medieval LITERATURE FROM ROMANIA

The Legend About Moldavia’s Foundation

The Romanian countries were founded in the first half of the 14 th century. At the beginning there were three Romanian states: Transylvania, Walachia and Moldavia.

The chronicles tell us the following legend about Moldavia’s foundation and the aurochs head represented on its coat of arms:

Once upon a time there was a great aurochs hunter called noble Dragoş. In those times the gorgeous aurochs (an old European bison) lived in Moldavia’s forests.

The story says that one day, when Dragoş went hunting, he heard that his brethren, the Romanians east of the Carpathian Mountains awfully suffered because they were plundered and killed by the Tartars. Actually they were people, who only lived by wars and plundering. No one equaled them in riding. Their horses and curved swords were as swift as the wind. They wore sheep caps and held round iron shields in their hands. Their leaders were called Khans.

Dragoş and his brave fellows crossed the mountains to help the suffering Romanians in their battle with the Tartars. Suddenly a huge, black, thick-necked and fiery-eyed aurochs cut his way. Dragoş’s dog, Molda, barking violently, ran after the aurochs. Dragoş aimed at the frightening beast and hit it with his spear. In spite of the bloody wound, the beast ran through the thick forest and crossed a big river, with

Molda, the dog following it closely. Unfortunately Molda drowned herself in the deep stormy river.

Dragoş and his brave men crossed the river and hit the beast between its horns, and finally killed it. In memory of his dear dog whose loss caused him much grief, he called that river Moldavia.

And then Dragoş went further to help the Romanians in that part of the country to get rid of the evildoer Tartars. When he returned triumphantly from the battle, the Romanians chose him as their prince, and asked him to rule over that part of the country, which they named Moldavia, from the name of the river.

Medieval POEM FROM ROMANIA

The song of Stefan the Great and Holly

Stefan, Stefan, great lord,There is no other like him in the world,Except for the magnificent Sun.

From Suceava when he rides, he ridesHis chest to defend the borders he puts,As a protective wall.

His arm endlessly Strikes the Tatar hoardsBeats the Hungarian mobs.

He strikes down the foes from the riding horseHe slays the enemies at once And exempts them of their burial.

Country’s small, country’s big.The whole world stands still with wonderAnd the enemy has no stride.

Cântecul lui Ştefan Cel Mare

Ştefan, Ştefan, domn cel mareSeamăn pe lume nu are,De cât numai mândrul soare.

Din Suceava când răsarePune pieptul la hotareCa un zid de apărare.

Braţul lui făr-ncetare,Bate hoardele tătareBate cetele maghiare.

Bate leşi din fuga mareBate turci pe zmei călareŞi-i scuteşte de-ngropare.

Ţara-i mică, Ţara-i tare,Lumea-ntreagă stă-n mirareŞi duşmanul spor nu are.

Medieval LITERATURE FROM TURKEY

Nasreddin Hoca

Nasreddin Hoca was born in 1208 in Hortu village near town Sivrihisar (near Afyon) in the west part of Central Anatolia. He moved in 1237 to Aksehir town to study under notably scholars of the time as Seyid Mahmud Hayrani and Seyid Haci Ibrahim. He served as Kadi, Muslim judge, from time to time till 1284 which is the date of his death.

Nasreddin Hoca was a philosopher, wise, witty man with a good sense of humor. His stories have been told almost everywhere in the world, spread among the tribes of Turkic World and into Persian, Arabian, African and along the Silk Road to China and India cultures, later also to Europe. Of course, all these stories currently attributed to the Hoca for about 700 years haven't originated from him. Most of them are the product of collective Humor of not only Turks but also other folks in the World.

Nasreddin Hodja, or Hoca which means teacher in Turkish .

The year 1996 was proclaimed "Nasreddin Hoca year" by UNESCO. He is, now in 2008, 800 years old. He signed the humor of the millennium at the top. SOME OF HOCA'S STORIES:

Cutting off the branch you are riding on. One day the Hodja was up a tree cutting fire wood. Somebody passing by noticed he was busily hacking at the very branch he was riding on. Be careful, Hodja Effendi! he warned. It is the branch you are riding on that you are trying to cut off. Unless you stop at once, you will certainly come a cropper. The Hodja

didn't bother to answer the man. Busy-bodies were everywhere. Never doing anything useful themselves, they kept telling you what to do, or not to do. While his mind was on this train of thought, down came the Hodja together with the branch he had just managed to severe. His opinion of the man was immediately reversed. Surely this was a man not to be trifled with. In fact, he might be the wisest man he would ever meet in his life. As soon as he got himself disentangled, he ran after the man, but he was too late, for the man had disappeared. Probably that was just as well. Because what he had had in mind was to ask the sage to tell him exactly when he was due to die.

MiracleJoking with Nasreddin Hodja by his friends has never ended. One day, some people of Aksehir tease by asking "Hodja, it is said that you have an exalted position among Muslim saints. Is it real?" Of course, he had no such a claim but he replies since he was asked once; "Probably; it must be so." "Such persons prove themselves to everybody by showing their miracles from time to time. So, since you accepted, show a miracle and let us see!" ask the people. "All right, let's do a trick," says Hodja and addresses the plane tree in front of him; "Hello, great plane tree, come quickly near me!..."Of course, no tree comes or goes. Hodja walks toward the tree and stays there. The people of Aksehir say:"Hodja, what happened? You were unable to bring the tree, but you went to the tree yourself!" as they were laughing at him, "We aren't haughty," says the Hodja, "If a mountain doesn't walk, saint-like person walks."

Help yourself, my fur coatOne day the Hodja was invited to a wedding. Having arrived in his shabby, everybody clothing nobody seemed to take any notice of him. Well, this wouldn't do. He bided his chance and slipped out unnoticed. He returned, wearing his best robe and his fine fur coat. From the entrance on he was overwhelmed with compliments, given the best seat at the table and urged to partake of the choicest morsels. Smiling, he began to dip the sleeve of his fur coat into the dishes, saying: "Help yourself, my fur coat!" "What are you doing, Hodja Effendi?" cried the host and some guests in alarm. "Why, I was just inviting my fur coat to partake of these delicacies, since it seems to command so much respect! A few minutes ago, without my fur coat, I wasn't even noticed. Because of it, I am now being overwhelmed with attentions!"

Medieval POEM FROM TURKEY

ANATOLIA

You, AnatoliaThe gateway of the agesThe foundation of the civilization is in youMy lineage comes from the Ottomans

We fought in MalazgirtAnd you opened your door to usLots of our people diedBut we got the victory

The great plane tree was born in Bursa

And its branches covered all landThe whole world laughed with youFreedom and honor begins with you

ANADOLU

Sen AnadoluÇağların geçiş yoluUygarlığımın temeli sendedirSoyum Osmanlı soyu

Malazgirt’te cenk ettikKapını açtın bizeNice can şehit verdikDüşmanı getirdik dize

Bursa’da doğdu koca çınarDalları bir uçtan bir ucaSeninle güldü tüm dünyaÖzgürlük ve şeref sende başlar