THE FLYING CYPRIAN PART 1

Working towards a meeting point...

with the world that we can see and whose beauty or tragedy or mystery provokes the urge to make it better place for all of us to live...
with the world that we can see and whose beauty or tragedy or mystery provokes the urge to make it better place for all of us to live...
We all want to be remembered and once we are the part of the long forgotten past...
We all want to be remembered and once we are the part of the long forgotten past...
who would not like to be remembered as the one: 'who gave without limit, share without restraint and love without regret.'
who would not like to be remembered as the one: 'who gave without limit, share without restraint and love without regret.'
When I wandered around the 'Terchova village' where they still remember the famous outlaw, they once hanged there...their stories overwhelmed me..
When I wandered around the 'Terchova village' where they still remember the famous outlaw, they once hanged there...their stories overwhelmed me..
...it was sadness in them, yet somehow there are also moments of great joy and laughter as we remembered the common man fighting oppression in his own way...
...it was sadness in them, yet somehow there are also moments of great joy and laughter as we remembered the common man fighting oppression in his own way...
I stayed in the cottage of not so old storyteller and artist, a wonderful man....
I stayed in the cottage of not so old storyteller and artist, a wonderful man....
his age, harsh environment and hard upbringing had taken too great a toll on his body there was no possibility of a cure...
his age, harsh environment and hard upbringing had taken too great a toll on his body there was no possibility of a cure...
...but his mind was full of imaginery of the past and endless creativity...
...but his mind was full of imaginery of the past and endless creativity...
Once he said to me when I told him I have a lot of ideas for poems, that poems are not made with ideas but with words.
Once he said to me when I told him I have a lot of ideas for poems, that poems are not made with ideas but with words.
His paintings, similarly are not made with ideas but with colours, or more exactly, for colour is an abstraction...
His paintings, similarly are not made with ideas but with colours, or more exactly, for colour is an abstraction...
but with pigments, natural substances he patiently collects from his beautiful surrounding and mix himself everyday....
but with pigments, natural substances he patiently collects from his beautiful surrounding and mix himself everyday....
His pigments have hue, intensity, tonal value and temperature just like the natural surrounding he lives in...
His pigments have hue, intensity, tonal value and temperature just like the natural surrounding he lives in...
While painting, he talked to me: ' Tone give structure, hue establish chromatic harmonies and tensions...
While painting, he talked to me: ' Tone give structure, hue establish chromatic harmonies and tensions...
...the temperature concerns the balance between warm and cool hues.'
...the temperature concerns the balance between warm and cool hues.'
Every artist has the some sort of unique and instinctive feel for all these qualities that a musician has for the character and timbre of the sound, product by his particular instrument...
Every artist has the some sort of unique and instinctive feel for all these qualities that a musician has for the character and timbre of the sound, product by his particular instrument...
...and poet or storyteller has for his individual characters, environment they live in and feelings they have...for meaning of the words and feeling of the sounds...product by his particular set of mind...
...and poet or storyteller has for his individual characters, environment they live in and feelings they have...for meaning of the words and feeling of the sounds...product by his particular set of mind...
I invited him for a beer and he told me this amazing story about 'The Flying Cyprian' and I realised that I wandered too much, it is time to go back to my roots...
I invited him for a beer and he told me this amazing story about 'The Flying Cyprian' and I realised that I wandered too much, it is time to go back to my roots...
I started to research the well know character from the Slav and Polish history and found the great story written by famous Slovak historian that I have translated for you...
I started to research the well know character from the Slav and Polish history and found the great story written by famous Slovak historian that I have translated for you...
When you wander for a long time, there is a price to pay...when you decide to return to whatever you left behind...
When you wander for a long time, there is a price to pay...when you decide to return to whatever you left behind...
...you seem to have forgotten how to find your way back,
...you seem to have forgotten how to find your way back,
how to recover your own particular point of equilibrium between your artistic vision and reference to the world, that is unique just to you and yet universal for everyone...
how to recover your own particular point of equilibrium between your artistic vision and reference to the world, that is unique just to you and yet universal for everyone...
With the recent homogenisation of art that is mainly aimed on a global profit hunt...a world of indifference slowly penetrate the art and also our lives...
With the recent homogenisation of art that is mainly aimed on a global profit hunt...a world of indifference slowly penetrate the art and also our lives...
When I watch some of the recent Hollywood movies that are made for everybody and nobody particular...
When I watch some of the recent Hollywood movies that are made for everybody and nobody particular...
I see this sad relevance with the art in general, if the movies cease to have characters and uniqueness to them, the movies stop to be relevant and cease to exist.
I see this sad relevance with the art in general, if the movies cease to have characters and uniqueness to them, the movies stop to be relevant and cease to exist.
In the rush to appeal to all corners of the globe Hollywood is erasing the identity that made its blockbuster movies appealing in the first place.
In the rush to appeal to all corners of the globe Hollywood is erasing the identity that made its blockbuster movies appealing in the first place.
The cruel commercial paradox here is that the quintessential American art form-the Hollywood movie-is being made to the universal product.
The cruel commercial paradox here is that the quintessential American art form-the Hollywood movie-is being made to the universal product.
The danger is in the homogenisation of the product.
The danger is in the homogenisation of the product.
There is a real prospect that the global blockbuster may eat itself.
There is a real prospect that the global blockbuster may eat itself.
The movies that survive are those that manage to transcend any imposed sense of location to deal movingly with universal themes of love, regret and pain that appeals to everyone.
The movies that survive are those that manage to transcend any imposed sense of location to deal movingly with universal themes of love, regret and pain that appeals to everyone.
The literature that survives is the one that has ability to transport readers into unfamiliar worlds, peopled by characters who are often out of time and place...
The literature that survives is the one that has ability to transport readers into unfamiliar worlds, peopled by characters who are often out of time and place...
...and yet a character is so well drawn, that we feel a genuine compassion for his plight.
...and yet a character is so well drawn, that we feel a genuine compassion for his plight.
I always keep beside me sentences produced by those who are 'virtuosi in the art of writing'. Language is the art form for them.
I always keep beside me sentences produced by those who are 'virtuosi in the art of writing'. Language is the art form for them.
'While language is a natural phenomenon, subject to universal rules, individual languages are cultural constructs...
'While language is a natural phenomenon, subject to universal rules, individual languages are cultural constructs...
...he views many of the problems of language as evidence of its essentially creative nature.' (The Language Wars: A History by Proper English' by Henry Hitching)
...he views many of the problems of language as evidence of its essentially creative nature.' (The Language Wars: A History by Proper English' by Henry Hitching)
To experience other cultures we need to learn their languages or at least view the unique cultures through the lenses of good translations.
To experience other cultures we need to learn their languages or at least view the unique cultures through the lenses of good translations.
'Translation asserts the possibility of a coherent unified experience of literature in the world's multiplicity of languages.' (Edith Grossman: 'Why translation matters.')
'Translation asserts the possibility of a coherent unified experience of literature in the world's multiplicity of languages.' (Edith Grossman: 'Why translation matters.')
I hope my story of a common man from the past, stumbling back and forth around his Slavic land in growing horror at the atrocities in the name of Catholic religion draw you out of your cultural shell.
I hope my story of a common man from the past, stumbling back and forth around his Slavic land in growing horror at the atrocities in the name of Catholic religion draw you out of your cultural shell.
I am a mere repeater of an ancient story, constantly wavering between the most ingenuous credulity and the most resolute scepticism...
I am a mere repeater of an ancient story, constantly wavering between the most ingenuous credulity and the most resolute scepticism...
Cyprian found himself plunged into ' a temporal hurricane of the time' and tried his best to survive, learn from it and grow....
Cyprian found himself plunged into ' a temporal hurricane of the time' and tried his best to survive, learn from it and grow....
How do you cope with catastrophe, plague and tempest, storm and war, events that kill and maim and ruin the lives of survivors?
How do you cope with catastrophe, plague and tempest, storm and war, events that kill and maim and ruin the lives of survivors?

THE FLYING CYPRIAN (Ancient Slav Legend) retold by Mariana Cengel Solcanska

A boy with a face of an angel,

who wished to fly

and reach the stars

was born

under the 'Red Monastery'

ancient walls.

Wrapped in a bright blue scarf,

the unwanted baby

left there

for wolves

or monks to come.


Monks taught him everything

what was there to know,

they named him Cyprian,

an orphan, with no means,

no one to love

and no one to love him back.

He prayed to God

five times per day

next to his mother's grave

behind the wall

for his unknown father

he prayed even more.


A man with a face of an angel,

and eyes full of murderous deeds,

Cyprian was his name,

travelled through light and dark

in a search of dream...

running from the justice,

fighting for his life

he ended up

not far

from the place

his abandoned son was found...


According to an ancient legend

in a deep forest valley

glued to a sharp stony wall

crumbling old 'Red Monastery'

appeared in a mist

long time ago.


In the beginning

of the 18th century

there lived monks

who forgot about outside world

occupying their days

by prays and hymns

by collecting herbs

and mixing natural medicines

and something else

that was forbidden

by the pope in Rome...

and yet

they felt

the time had come

for latin religious texts

to be understood

by everyone.

Bible was translated

in secrecy

into Slav native language

and suddenly

for the first time

in the history

poor pheasants and commoners

of Austria-Hungarian Empire

who were not allowed

to even own a piece of land

learnt to read and write.


In Anno Domini 1713

it happened this year

that in Terchova village

they hanged a young man

hanged him on his rib,

a feared outlaw

and common people's hero.

Everyone was there

mourning his slow and painful death

seeing him bleeding

from his torn abdomen.

The three brothers came

from a dark place

in a forest

where they lived

after their parents died.


Scavengers,

always fighting to survive,

a pack of human wolves

hunting in the darkest hour

of the night.

Today they killed a boar,

slicing his neck from side to side,

cutting off the meat,

loading on the rough sledge

they made

and selling it off

to the nearest pub.


The greedy publican

laughed into their faces:

“ You hunt in king's forest,

sooner or later,

you will hang for it.”

The publican's daughter

fell in love

with the brother

in the middle

with a long curly hair

and a face of an angel.

“ You should be a monk

and not an outlaw.”

She whispered into his ear,

when they made love.

She never found out

how fulfilled

her prophecy had become.


The eldest of the brothers

was the best hunter

and

loved to drink.

The middle one

knew the names of herbs

that could heal

and

lived for his love.

Her father,

angry

at his daughter's choice,

shouted to her ear:

“How can you love someone,

who is more dead

than alive?”


And he was right.

They will die soon,

all of them,

except one.

The youngest of the brothers

was barely fourteen

wanting nothing more

but to kill his own deer,

to show off

his skills.

And he paid for it,

by loosing both of his arms,

bleeding to death from his torso...

and screaming for his brothers

to come.


And they did,

killing everyone

on their path

in a rage.

Lost in a grief

over his youngest brother's death,

he killed the traitor

by using his hunting axe.

The publican's daughter's

had no power

over her lover

she wiped the blood

pouring from her Father's skull

with the bright blue scarf,

a gift of love turned to nightmare.


'The Witch hunt' was about to start,

two brothers had no chance,

even the wrong religion

meant death sentence

in those times

and they were protestants.


Wandering around

the Europe

up and down

never paid attention

to anyone

who noticed them,

and everyone

in return

turned the blind eye.

They disappeared

into the ever changing

crowd of travellers

for Holy Land.

Lost in narrow streets

of old towns

they killed from time to time

an innocent passerby.


They travelled the roads untravelled,

living in the abandoned caves,

in the died out villages

wiped out of people

by the 'black death'.

They stopped near the sea

icy cold

and turned back to find

their way home

but they found HIM....


In Anno Domini 1718

a Husita

an elite soldier

of the royal regiment

and the head

of the hunting party

killing everything and everyone

on their path

gypsies, protestants

and those

who didn't recognise God

as their only saviour....


He stopped by

in the rundown protestan pub

raping the pregnant woman there

wearing a bright blue scarf

and burning the place down

while holding a parchment

written by the king himself

allowing him to do this

and more...

in the name of Catholic religion.


Two brothers stood there

under the blackened wall,

the only one left

from their well known pub.

Snowflakes falling slowly

on their fair long hair,

dying amber

glistening on their sharp knives.

The Husita stopped in front of them

tall and threatening

on his dark strong horse

showing the king's order

of their hangings.


He laughed loudly

while his hunting party

tied them down.

The younger brother,

thinking of the girl with the bright blue scarf

fought back

and managed to run away.


The older brother

gave up.

They put him in a dungeon

and hanged the next day.

He was there,

on the city's square,

hidden in a cheering crowd,

watching the Husita

skinning his brother

while still alive.


He was alone,

hiding in the tall pines

of his homeland

never following the same road...

He slept little

dreaming about dead ones.

After one year

he forgot

how his brothers looked like,

they stopped chasing him

in his dreams,

he also lost

the ability to feel,

to laugh or to cry,

his stone face

and wild appearance

scared an old wandering Jew,

he met in a forest

and robbed

of everything...

money, food, clothes

even the book he found in his sack...

leaving him desperate

crying out:

Kill me, but don't take me that,

it is a treasure, unworthy of someone,

who can not read.”


In the autumn

they started to hunt

him down,

again.

He climbed up the high mountains

following the treacherous paths

to their snowy peaks

hiding in dark caves

where no light ever reached...

On one miserable cold day

at the end of December

in the darkness of the night

hungry and lost

he woke up

from the nightmare

and felt

he is the only one

left

in the whole world.

He left the mountains

ready to be caught.


And they nearly did,

he was shot

and fell into the cold waters

of the rapidly moving creek.


The huge storm raved outside

no one saw him there

collapsing on the steps

with barely enough energy

to rattle the gates

of the Red Monastery.


The oldest monk found him

and gently washed his body

covering it with a paste

from healing herbs

while a little boy named Cyprian

just like him

combed his muddled hair.


When the deep bronze voice

of the Monastery bells

called everyone to pray,

he opened his eyes

for the first time

thinking of Turks

invading his homeland

of a 'black death'

claiming his parents,

of a big fire,

of fear that only enemy can bring...

their voices echoed in his memory

and he felt trapped

again...


Too weak to move

he stared at them

with open suspicion

and hate

scarring off the boy

who hid under the bed,

there he found a sack

and a book in it...


More by this Author


Comments 44 comments

writer20 profile image

writer20 5 years ago from Southern Nevada

This is a great story that I really enjoyed reading. off to the next part.


Credence2 profile image

Credence2 5 years ago from Florida (Space Coast)

A most interesting account, the photos you used to illustrate are quite stunning.

Cred2


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you for your encouraging comments my dear HP friends, this is the first time I have found enough courage to try to translate something from Slovak to English and I hope my English didn't suffer too much....usually my English 'goes down the hill' when I use frequently my mother tongue, as it often happens...I used to translate often from Slovak to Russian and back, but now I don't think I would manage even that....so thank you again, happy I tried:)


Paradise7 profile image

Paradise7 5 years ago from Upstate New York

The story, the photos, and the copy beneath the photos, all rate up, for me. Thank you for putting this out here for all of us to share. It's really awesome. I don't know whether I gained any sympathy for the rampaging criminals in this story, or not. I felt nobody deserves a horrible death, like what was imposed on the brothers. Wrongs lead to wrongs which lead to more wrongs...it is so sad that some of the wrongs done are done wrongly in the name of Christ.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Dear my new HP friend, I don't think we ever learnt on our mistakes, but at least it is to refresh all forgotten stories from our shared past....please if you find some time finish reading the other two parts, because the real message of this story is THERE...thank you for your beautiful comment and hope you come back again:)


Nikkij504gurl profile image

Nikkij504gurl 5 years ago from Louisiana

so wait is the boy the jew he scared off? and the brother is his father? does he ever meet the girl again or is she the dead mother of the child? guess I will just have to read more!


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

I hope your figured it out at the end, I appologise if the 'scattered images in my mind' are little be tangled up...I hope everything you managed to untangle once you read more...and I know you did...thank you for spending your valuable time with me and I am happy it was worthwhile:)


Nikkij504gurl profile image

Nikkij504gurl 5 years ago from Louisiana

yes i think i got it lol thanks for the interesting read. quite a moral to this story.


Cagsil profile image

Cagsil 5 years ago from USA or America

An interesting story. I'm not exactly sure whether or not I've read something similar to it before. It sounds familiar, but don't recall where I've read it.


parduc profile image

parduc 5 years ago from Kos island, Greece

Wow, just awesome, Beata!


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you my fellow hubbers for visiting the story from my homeland... by paying respect to my 'loose translation' of the Eastern European legend you paid respect to my origin, to who I really am...thank you...


Sueswan 5 years ago

I enjoyed this story from your homeland. Such tragedy but such beauty.

The pictures are breathtaking.

I look forward to reading more.

Voted up and awesome.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you dear Sue, happy you liked it...we have black swans swimming now in our Swan river, thinking of you when I see them gracefully passing by gently touching water with their weightless bodies...thank you again for stopping by my Hub-friend:)


BongSantos profile image

BongSantos 5 years ago from Philippines

Wonderful story-telling, poignant and riveting. Next episode please. I'm a fan.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Happy you liked the first part my fellow hubber and thank you for stopping by:)


STMerriman profile image

STMerriman 5 years ago from Quincy ilinois

Thanks for the message and Invite this was defintely worth checking out! Well written and deeply poetic this makes me think of the ancient tales of mythology I grew up on, Bravo!


icciev profile image

icciev 5 years ago from Kuwait

Waw, this is a peace of art. loved the way you wrote a historical story within the Poem, moreover the nice pictures you add tells another story, you are just a talent. it my pleasure reading this story.... voted up, heading to the next part.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you guys, happy you liked it...hopefully you will follow the lead to part 2 and 3:)


leroy64 profile image

leroy64 5 years ago from Dallas, Texas (Oak Cliff)

I like the way you used the captions in your photos. I have bookmarked this hub to read again.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you dear 'leroy' I am very happy that you have found my hub useful and you will come back. Visual images helps me to reflect and think about life around me, each of the photos I have taken on my travel inspired in some way and I am happy my 'little visual reflections' are useful for someone:)...take care and see you again in our 'hubworld'


tom hellert profile image

tom hellert 5 years ago from home

BTSK,

wow what other bedtime stories did you get?

Did the 3 little pigs stab the wolf? and lightem up on the BBQ?

Did Snow White

slice up the dwarves.?

TH


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Maybe...you never know, tom what to expect of me?....just turn the corner and see for yourself...history is full of pigs stabbing the wolf (just look at Lybia now:)

Thanks for stopping by my new friend and cheered up my day:)...so are you ready to turn the corner or to scarred and prefer to hide under the bed? ....I will wait and see....ha,ha..


tom hellert profile image

tom hellert 5 years ago from home

BtSTK,

ya just got a lil creepy there cheif- but arent we all a little off-balance

TH


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

We are:)...do not worry about that, therefore we are here in the first place, don't you think so?


Derdriu 5 years ago

Beata Stasak: Thank you for the seamless coordination of an ancient tale of wisdom and woe with a stunning series which gives an updated feel to the cultural, geographical and historical contexts.

Voted up, etc.,

Derdriu


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Wow, I feel honoured to get such thorough and professional review on the long forgotten tale....I am happy that it still manages to talk to people...we are, at the end, the product of the past, living now and dreaming about the bright future:)


April Reynolds profile image

April Reynolds 5 years ago from Arizona

I like this, I can't wait until I have time to read the next part.

Thank you for your kind words on my page!


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

thank you April for stopping by and leaving your kind comment, it is just one of the Slav's legend I grew up with...and I am happy it is still useful for someone:)...take care my new hubber-friend:)


April Reynolds profile image

April Reynolds 5 years ago from Arizona

Ahh finally some peace and a chance to read again. With the kids crawling all over me on my last visit, I missed the beauty of your own story written in the captions. I am glad to get a chance to return and discover it. Thank you for sharing your personal journey. Now on to part 2...


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

I am so honoured dear April that you find the time and patience to come back and re-read my story...it is not easy with the little children all over you, but when they will be bigger you can tell them the story from far away time and place...just like my Granny used to tell me...once they will cherish those stories as the beautiful moments spent with their mum:)


Hally Z. profile image

Hally Z. 5 years ago from Madison, Wisconsin

Diekuje Ci, za te pomislne slowa, Beata. Zachecilas mi do Twoich stron.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you Hally, I know that Cyprian was famous in Poland as well:)


Deerwhisperer profile image

Deerwhisperer 5 years ago from Bradenton, Florida

Beautiful but sad. But that's what makes them worth reading. I voted up and beautiful.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you my dear 'storyteller-hub-friend' for your kind comment, I am very happy that you liked the ancient story from my past as I know you are the 'real story master':)


Patkay profile image

Patkay 4 years ago from Nairobi, Kenya

Great story, very nice pictures and a good presentation. Keep it like that.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 4 years ago from Western Australia Author

thank you dear Patkay from faraway land for stopping by and leaving me your appreciative comment..all the best from Beata


marshacanada profile image

marshacanada 4 years ago from Vancouver BC

This is a story and set of photos that really gets the reader into the time and place of mythic Slovakia, the brutal and heroic history.

I recognize those ladders in the forest. They are just like the ladders that helped me and my fellow hikers along the forest and mountain paths in Slovakia.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 4 years ago from Western Australia Author

Yes, my dear fellow hubber, happy you liked the story from my childhood and I am thrilled that you visited and liked my homecountry as well:)...hidden in a middle of Europe, it is just a speck of land, where mother nature used all her creativity...only sea is missing:)


fernando d. profile image

fernando d. 4 years ago from california

It reads like a great movie.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 4 years ago from Western Australia Author

Actually the movie of this ancient story exists as well and it is really good:)


John Sarkis profile image

John Sarkis 4 years ago from Los Angeles, CA

I love your writing style - awesome - and the photos are breathtaking!

John


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 4 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you John, it is my home country taken by my old camera on my visit last year:)


Belle 24 months ago

That's not even 10 minteus well spent!


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 24 months ago from Western Australia Author

Is it good thing or bad? Smile...

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