Prohasar man opre pirende - sa muro djiben semas opre chengende
Bury me standing - I've been on my knees all my life
Bury me standing - I've been on my knees all my life
Meaning of (name):
Aliases:
Date Found:
Found: Link
Date of Maxing:
Temper:
Breed:
Breed Appearance:
Height: hands
Personality:
Quirks/Character Traits:
✶
✶
✶
Backstory:
.
Date
The Continuing Story...
Stats
quote it here
The Continuing Story...
https://www.gaiaonline.com/guilds/viewtopic.php?t=25468566&page=2
Name: "Matuya" (in larger letters please, and then Matu and Tuya beneath, if you think of a better way, let me know. Matu has the dark hair, Tuya the light.)
Owner: Nyx Queen of Darkness
Date Received: Sat Sep 05, 2020
Temper: Portentous
Method of Obtainment: Moxx May 2020 Customs
Colorist: Moxxiie
Miscellaneous: Mouse's name: Saviako
Gimme Another Chance
Username: Nyx Queen of Darkness
Link to Entry
The Twins Will Love This!
Entry:
WIP:
WIP:
Explanation: We found them, I bottle raised them. They are grown and amazing. Oscar and Callie
Where did it come from: I found it, literally. In a wood pile in our yard. I'm proud of them.
Extra:
Callie Grown
Oscar Grown (with Bella, who is just 2 short weeks older than them, so we call them the triplets)
Growing
More Growing
Gimme Another Chance
Username: Nyx Queen of Darkness
Link to Entry
The Twins Will Love This!
Entry:
“Besh! Besh! You have come to hear the Paramicha, have you? But that is not what you will hear, instead I will give you a warning.” Matu glanced at her sister Tuya’s head bent to her instrument, strumming the brigaki dijilia as if it was a hymn. Matu closed her eyes and let the music find her bones, let the lashav come that would tell the tachibe.
“Can you not hear it? The Detlene? Of those gelo? They warn us of the beng, of the mamiori...For we know him by one name now.” Tuya’s soft voice translated the words that Matu could not find.
“His words, they speak of greatness as though he can fix your problems. With one face, the mizhak speaks softly to the treshul you worship--safety, order, rules, a better world. He makes the Roma and Gadje to be enemies, but we are not the only ones. He eats and eats at our sensibility until there is no sensibility left. He turns us against ones whom we have no reason to be against. He calls me chovexani, and to him I say I am chovexani if that is what you call me with hate in your voice.”
Matu took a deep breath as Tuya stilled the chords of her music to let there be silence.
“Xari,” Tuya’s voice is sorrowful, more than even her music had been.
“Xari,” Matu’s voice echoed. “The ‘one who eats’, whatever we hold dear. He consumes us, with our consent or at the consent of others. He makes us small. He makes us consumed by his hollow bokh. He has come before, he is now and he will come again.Trushal ojdi, that he is, he eats and eats us whole. The Xari.”
Matu whispered silently with her sister, before Tuya answered. “The devourer.”
Matu spoke again, “Bar?. Bhen? Chindilan? Do not believe that it is Ma-sha-llah.
Devel, he warns us.”
“Opre!” Tuya’s voice sounds the foretelling’s end. Matu takes charge of the narrative once more, “Protect your familia. Fight for them.
.
“The Xari, the devourer is coming, but I fear my warning will do bi-lacho.”
WIP: I'm using this section for the translated version.
“Sit! Sit! You have come to hear the Romani Fairytell/Storytellers, have you? But that is not what you will hear, instead I will give you a warning.” Matu glanced at her sister Tuya’s head bent to her instrument, strumming the sorrow song as if it was a hymn. Matu closed her eyes and let the music find her bones, let the words come that would tell the truth.
“Can you not hear it? The ghosts of children? Of those gone? They warn us of the devil, of the spirit who sickens...For we know him by one name now.” Tuya’s soft voice translated the words that Matu could not find.
“His words, they speak of greatness as though he can fix your problems. With one face, the evil speaks softly to the cross you worship--safety, order, rules, a better world. He makes the Roma and non-Roma to be enemies, but we are not the only ones. He eats and eats at our sensibility until there is no sensibility left. He turns us against ones whom we have no reason to be against. He calls me witch, and to him I say I am witch if that is what you call me with hate in your voice.”
Matu took a deep breath as Tuya stilled the chords of her music to let there be silence.
“Xari,” Tuya’s voice is sorrowful, more than even her music had been.
“Xari,” Matu’s voice echoed. “The ‘one who eats’, whatever we hold dear. He consumes us, with our consent or at the consent of others. He makes us small. He makes us consumed by his hollow hunger. He has come before, he is now and he will come again. Hungry soul, that he is, he eats and eats us whole. The Xari.”
Matu whispered silently with her sister, before Tuya answered. “The Devourer.”
Matu spoke again, “Brother? Sister? Are you fed up, weary? Do not believe that it is the will of God. God, he warns us.”
“Arise!” Tuya’s voice sounds the foretelling’s end. Matu takes charge of the narrative once more, “Protect your family. Fight for them. The Xari, the devourer is coming, but I fear my warning will do no good.”
“Besh! Besh! You have come to hear the Paramicha, have you? But that is not what you will hear, instead I will give you a warning.” Matu glanced at her sister Tuya’s head bent to her instrument, strumming the brigaki dijilia as if it was a hymn. Matu closed her eyes and let the music find her bones, let the lashav come that would tell the tachibe.
“Can you not hear it? The Detlene? Of those gelo? They warn us of the beng, of the mamiori...For we know him by one name now.” Tuya’s soft voice translated the words that Matu could not find.
“His words, they speak of greatness as though he can fix your problems. With one face, the mizhak speaks softly to the treshul you worship--safety, order, rules, a better world. He makes the Roma and Gadje to be enemies, but we are not the only ones. He eats and eats at our sensibility until there is no sensibility left. He turns us against ones whom we have no reason to be against. He calls me chovexani, and to him I say I am chovexani if that is what you call me with hate in your voice.”
Matu took a deep breath as Tuya stilled the chords of her music to let there be silence.
“Xari,” Tuya’s voice is sorrowful, more than even her music had been.
“Xari,” Matu’s voice echoed. “The ‘one who eats’, whatever we hold dear. He consumes us, with our consent or at the consent of others. He makes us small. He makes us consumed by his hollow bokh. He has come before, he is now and he will come again.Trushal ojdi, that he is, he eats and eats us whole. The Xari.”
Matu whispered silently with her sister, before Tuya answered. “The devourer.”
Matu spoke again, “Bar?. Bhen? Chindilan? Do not believe that it is Ma-sha-llah.
Devel, he warns us.”
“Opre!” Tuya’s voice sounds the foretelling’s end. Matu takes charge of the narrative once more, “Protect your familia. Fight for them.
.
“The Xari, the devourer is coming, but I fear my warning will do bi-lacho.”
WIP: I'm using this section for the translated version.
“Sit! Sit! You have come to hear the Romani Fairytell/Storytellers, have you? But that is not what you will hear, instead I will give you a warning.” Matu glanced at her sister Tuya’s head bent to her instrument, strumming the sorrow song as if it was a hymn. Matu closed her eyes and let the music find her bones, let the words come that would tell the truth.
“Can you not hear it? The ghosts of children? Of those gone? They warn us of the devil, of the spirit who sickens...For we know him by one name now.” Tuya’s soft voice translated the words that Matu could not find.
“His words, they speak of greatness as though he can fix your problems. With one face, the evil speaks softly to the cross you worship--safety, order, rules, a better world. He makes the Roma and non-Roma to be enemies, but we are not the only ones. He eats and eats at our sensibility until there is no sensibility left. He turns us against ones whom we have no reason to be against. He calls me witch, and to him I say I am witch if that is what you call me with hate in your voice.”
Matu took a deep breath as Tuya stilled the chords of her music to let there be silence.
“Xari,” Tuya’s voice is sorrowful, more than even her music had been.
“Xari,” Matu’s voice echoed. “The ‘one who eats’, whatever we hold dear. He consumes us, with our consent or at the consent of others. He makes us small. He makes us consumed by his hollow hunger. He has come before, he is now and he will come again. Hungry soul, that he is, he eats and eats us whole. The Xari.”
Matu whispered silently with her sister, before Tuya answered. “The Devourer.”
Matu spoke again, “Brother? Sister? Are you fed up, weary? Do not believe that it is the will of God. God, he warns us.”
“Arise!” Tuya’s voice sounds the foretelling’s end. Matu takes charge of the narrative once more, “Protect your family. Fight for them. The Xari, the devourer is coming, but I fear my warning will do no good.”
Explanation: A short story influenced by the sight and by The Devourer we all know in our life
Where did it come from: I made it myself
Extra: Thanks for the chance!
http://www2.arnes.si/~eusmith/Romany/phrases.html
