Ribe,

malo pre mi je javio Tobić da je ovde juče zaboravio horoskop za vas. Pogledao sam više puta, ali nije ovde. Lepo sam video kad ga je stavio u švercersku torbu punu horoskopa dok sam ga pratio onako pijanog službenim vozilom na voz. Verovatno mu je neko ćapio kad je stigo u Beograd na štajgi ili u pica parku dok se zakopčavao.

Probajte da ga nađete ovde: HOROSKOP ZA RIBE U BEOGRADU (klik!)

Pozdrav

Srpski konzul u Moldaviji Goran Lakićević Belčević

PS. Svraća on ovde često, pošto mu se u poslednje vreme mnogo više isplati nego da ih uzima kao do sad u Timočkoj krajini.

Limba Noastra je od 1994. godine nacionalna himna Republike Moldavije. Stihove je napisao Alexei Mateevici (1888-1917), a muziku jekomponovao Alexandru Cristea (1890-1942). Originalna poema sadrži 12 kitica, od kojih je 5 iskorišteno za himnu. Ovih 5 kitica je podebljano.

POČUJTE HIMNU (Real audio stream)

Limba noastra

Limba noastra-i o comoara

In adancuri infundata

Un sirag de piatra rara

Pe mosie revarsata.

Limba noastra-i foc ce arde

Intr-un neam, ce fara veste

S-a trezit din somn de moarte

Ca viteazul din poveste.

Limba noastra-i numai cantec,

Doina dorurilor noastre,

Roi de fulgere, ce spintec

Nouri negri, zari albastre.

Limba noastra-i graiul painii,

Cand de vant se misca vara;

In rostirea ei batranii

Cu sudori sfintit-au tara.

Limba noastra-i frunza verde,

Zbuciumul din codrii vesnici,

Nistrul lin, ce-n valuri pierde

Ai luceferilor sfesnici.

Nu veti plange-atunci amarnic,

Ca vi-i limba prea saraca,

Si-ti vedea, cat ii de darnic

Graiul tarii noastre draga.

Limba noastra-i vechi izvoade.

Povestiri din alte vremuri;

Si citindu-le 'nsirate, -

Te-nfiori adanc si tremuri.

Limba noastra ii aleasa

Sa ridice slava-n ceruri,

Sa ne spiue-n hram si-acasa

Vesnicele adevaruri.

Limba noastra-i limba sfanta,

Limba vechilor cazanii,

Care o plang si care o canta

Pe la vatra lor taranii.

Inviati-va dar graiul,

Ruginit de multa vreme,

Stergeti slinul, mucegaiul

Al uitarii 'n care geme.

Strangeti piatra lucitoare

Ce din soare se aprinde -

Si-ti avea in revarsare

Un potop nou de cuvinte.

Rasari-va o comoara

In adancuri infundata,

Un sirag de piatra rara

Pe mosie revarsata.

Prevod na engleski

A treasure is our tongue that surges

From deep shadows of the past,

Chain of precious stones that scattered

All over our ancient land.

A burning flame is our tongue

Amidst a people waking

From a deathly sleep, no warning,

Like the brave man of the stories.

Our tongue is made of songs

From our soul's deepest desires,

Flash of lighting striking swiftly

Through dark clouds and blue horizons.

Our tongue is the tongue of bread

When the winds blow through the summer,

Uttered by our forefathers who

Blessed the country through their labour.

Our tongue is the greenest leaf

Of the everlasting forests,

Gentle river Nistru's ripples

Hiding starlight bright and shining.

Utter no more bitter cries now

That your language is too poor,

And you will see with what abundance

Flow the words of our precious country.

Our tongue is full of legends,

Stories from the days of old.

Reading one and then another

Makes one shudder, tremble and moan.

Our tongue is singled out

To lift praises up to heaven,

Uttering with constant fervour

Truths that never cease to beckon.

Our tongue is more than holy,

Words of homilies of old

Wept and sung perpetually

In the homesteads of our folks.

Resurrect now this our language,

Rusted through the years that have passed,

Wipe off filth and mould that gathered

When forgotten through our land.

Gather now the sparkling stone,

Catching bright light from the sun.

You will see the endless flooding

Of new words that overflow.

A treasure will spring up swiftly

From deep shadows of the past,

Chain of precious stones that scattered

All over our ancient land.