falcon

falcon

A falcon hunt was probably the most favored entertainment for the nobility in medieval Russia. This phenomenon of life in the Russian state is reflected by the fact that from the fourteenth until the seventeenth century, the Chief of the Council of Falcon Hunting (known as the "Sokolnichiy Prikaz") was one of the most important and influential people in the Tsar's court. Retaining such a post was not necessarily the easiest thing to do in those days, as the Monarchs were sometimes fierce. As legend has it, during Ivan the Terrible's rule, the chief of the "Prikaz Sokolnichiy" lost one of the Tsar's favorite falcons. During the hunt the unfortunate falconer released the falcon, which flew into the air, never to be seen again. Ivan the Terrible was so upset, that he told the falconer to go into the fields and find the falcon, or otherwise be beheaded. After walking for several days through the fields of what is now known as the "Sokolniki" district of modern Moscow, the falconer prayed to the Lord for mercy, fearing his certain execution by the tyrant, Ivan the Terrible. Then a miracle happened; the falcon landed on the ground by the falconer as he stood in prayer. Thus the chief or the "Sokolnichiy Prikaz" was saved and the Tsar was pleased to have his favorite falcon back.

Wednesday March 12, 2008 - 01:42pm (IST) Permanent Link 0 Comments
you will read

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You're me in the way. I used to Walk so, without looking up. Stop, passerby! Don't refuse to. I beg and I pray you -- stop!
You'll read, as you lay the glowing Red blossoms on the mound of grass: Marina. And then more slowly: The dates -- of my birth and death.
Yes, there is a grave, but leave it And hount you I won't, no fear. I too, you can well believe it, Once laught in the midst of tears.
The blood through my veins coursed freely, The locks curled around my face. Stop, passerby! Can't you feel it? I too, passerby, once was.
A strawberry. Pluck it, eat it! It's there, near the very ground. No berries are ever sweeter Then those in a graveyard found.
But only no gloom, no tightly Closed lips, do not brood or fret. Think lightly on me, and lightly My name, passerby, forget.
The sun's dust-like beams caress you, Your shoulders and head they lave. Please don't let the voice distress you That cames to you from grave.
1913. By Marina Tsvetaeva. Translated by Irina Zheleznova.

Wednesday March 12, 2008 - 01:31pm (IST) Permanent Link 1 Comment
interesting
watch videoArtificial intelligence will never be a match for natural stupidity. - Anonymous

Wednesday March 12, 2008 - 08:17am (IST) Permanent Link 0 Comments
pech
The Russian Stove is an amazing creation. It is made of very simple materials and its interior design has been perfected over many generations. Eastern European countries, not just Russia have adopted the use of this style of stove. In some cases artisans get a hold of the materials to make beautiful centerpieces in the homes that will be heated during the winter.
The Russian Stove