remember - many years ago in the land of my father
In Part I
around barefoot
The old wooden bench painted green, in front of us the water lily pond, behind us the bougainvillea, skyscraper for butterflies from around the district. And what are you talking to me, hands wrinkled and white head, stick leaning against the bench. Indicate floor waving in the air, lost in thought, his hand withered by time, explain to me the intelligence of the earth that you have made. That you and Grandpa you compost o. Your water lilies, your vegetable garden. The goblins nell'altanec square dance in the 'hanging by a thread' and go down ... down ... down in the water lily pond where my brother, in a corner, keep the slippery tadpoles. We are barefoot. Soil contamination. I hear you breathe and try to understand and that land is still non-contaminated, where the elves have nothing of "Satan", where no one has uncovered the ancient legends with virginal cloaks. Not here in the country. In the morning I take the notebook and writing, drawing, sitting on the old bench, calm in the heat of the cicadas ... Skřítek spiteful wanders around there, in the chiaroscuro of the sparse shade of the magic created Dall'Ora noon and at night ... be careful the ponds because of Vodnik, scaly creature, and his lust for Anime to seal in glass jars under water ... and very early morning, between the shimmering of flowers wet with dew, the Fairy reigns supreme ... and Vilà to survive need to understand that strange sweetness cruel.
Moravia. Many years ago, on the old bench in the garden fairy.
"In the villages and there was adjacent to noise and animation. Pasture came the sound of bagpipes and gardens, meadows and open countryside, echoing chants of young girls. But behold, it was noon, and all the voices fell silent, and deep silence surged the "fate of the afternoon." Wrapped in white cloth, like pale shadows passed to fly over the crops and the villages, bringing misery to children left unattended. Went out into the open the monstrous witch enormous head, with a different eye and the other did also see the beautiful nymphs of the woods, adorned with white robes, with their braided hair and gold crown on his head. The Czechs had a holy fear of the fairies and nymphs, which humans fall asleep and then made them squirt out the eyes from their sockets. They feared that even the wandering souls fluttered as blue flames above the marshes and swamps, the fear made them turn away from the lakes and marshes of the woods, where, in the shadow of the bushes and old trees, the genius of water spied wayfarers and the pale ripples all dressed in green lure them into death traps. But more than any other man aroused the fear of thunder and lightning, the Jupiter Slavic Perun, and without him the mighty forces of demons who emptied the human body, he broke bones and obscure reason ...
... was the most peaceful existence outside of the villages where the lands were under the protection of domestic gods and spirits of the ancestors, whose images were placed in the sacred house, next to the fireplace.
A mischievous dwarf, with small num clawed hands and feet, bring good fortune, while the genius of the house, although sometimes come to disturb the sleep, kept in a safe household goods, livestock and watched gave him fodder. And as long as the owner was old and sedentary, he was lying under the stove or behind the threshold, luck and prosperity did not abandon his home. And when the autumn leaves were falling thick and the fog descended on the fields and meadows where the soil is impregnated with frost and snow cloaked everything around, the whole family be gathered in the spacious central chamber made of beams, with low ceilings and taxes secure. The large stone fireplace radiated heat, the fire radiated light. Flares reddish flickered on the walls, lighting, leather shields, nets, bows, quivers in their wooden covers of sealskin, short swords, spears and heavy clubs of stone, while larger antlers or hanging on the walls of uro projected grotesque shadows in the room ... "
Alois Jirasek - Tales and Legends of the Golden Prague.
