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Some Romanian dude translated this Romanian poem about Brincoveanu for me. Pretty based dude.
In the morning of a Thursday, short day was of his life,
Brincoveanu rose, his soft face he washed,
His white beard he combed, at icons he bowed;
On the window he looked and, tragically, he frightened!
"My dears, loved cubs! Leave sleep, wake up,
Your weapons ready, for we are surrounded
By the unsatisfied Pasha(Mustafa Pasha)
Janissaries with large cannons
That break walls no matter how strong!"
Just as the talk ended, the Turks jumped in the house,
All the six they caught and they took to imprison
In Istanbul, in the great tower(Edikale fortress)
That rises near the sea, where royal faces lay
And great imperial couriers.
They didn't sit for long, that the Sultan brought them
Near his terrace on the shore of the Bosphorus
"Brincovene Constantin, old boyar and christian voivode,
Truth it is that you have thought, before to be killed,
To separate your voivodate from my empire?
Golden coins you have minted, without fear of me,
Without wanting to face me!"
"Were I good, bad at ruling only God knows;
Were I great on the earth, search now to see what I am!"
"Constantine Brincovene! Don't tell me perfidious words!
If you have mercy for the children and if you want to remain(alive),
Forget the Christian law and give in to the Turkish law!"
"May God do what He will! Even if all my childs he'll take I won't give up my faith!"
The Sultan from the terrace gave sign to the pasha,
Two dzhalats came fast, swords waving
And to the captives they went, from the children they chose
The older and beautiful one and put him down on the chair.
And when the blade fastened, his head swiftly fell!
Brincoveanu sighed deeply: "God, thy will be done!"
The two dzhalats went again and from two they picked
The cute middle one, with smooth blonde hair,
And on the chair they put him and beheaded him!
Brincoveanu sighed deeply: "God, thy will be done!"
The Sultan was amazed and with mercy told him:
"Brincovene Constantin, old boyar and Christian voivode!
For sons you've had, three of which you've lost,
Only one is left! If with days you want me to leave him,
Forget the Christian law and change to the Turkish law!"
"Great is Holy God!
Good Christian I was born, good Christian I want to die...
Shhh, dear, do not cry for my heart is aching,
Shhh and die in your law, for the sky you'll earn!"
The pasha frowned, the dzhalats advanced,
And the meek child, father's dear son,
On the ground they threw and his days they cut
Brincoveanu deeply sighed and from his soul he said:
"God, thy will be done!"
Afterwards he darkened, his heart broke,
On the children he threw himself,
He cried for them, he kissed them,
And maddened then shouted:
"Alelej! Pagan thieves! Alej! You sons of dogs!
Four sons I had, all four I have lost!
May God grant my thought:
May you 'wash' on the Earth
Like the clouds wash from wind,
To have no place of burial
Nor children to kiss!"
The harsh Turks were maddened
On him they jumped, his days they lifted...
"Mad dogs, Turks, evil pagans! Even if you eat my flesh,
Know that he died Christian, Brincoveanu Constantin!"
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