PRINCE CHARMING OF THE TEAR
Mihai EMINESCU
Once upon a time, when the humans, as we know them today, were but in the seeds of the future, when God was still walking the stony deserts of the Earth, - once upon a time, there lived a dark emperor, thoughtful as the night itself married to a young empress, smiling as the day at noon. It was fifty years since the emperor was at war with one of his neighbors. The neighbor had died, but he had left his sons and grandsons his hate and blood feud as their inheritance. Fifty years, and the emperor was living alone, like an old lion, weakened by fights and pains. An emperor who had never laughed in his life, who could not smile at a child's innocent song, nor at his young wife’s loving smile, nor at the old, funny stories of the soldiers, aged in battles and needs. He felt weak, he felt he was dying, and he had no one to leave the legacy of his hate. He was sad while getting up from his imperial bed, from beside his young empress - golden bed, but deserted and not blessed-he was sad while going to war, with an untamed heart - and the empress, left alone, was weeping for her solitude with widowhood tears. Her hair, golden as pure gold was falling on her white, rounded breasts – and from her large, blue eyes rivers of watery gems were flowing down her white face, whiter than the silver of the lily flower. Deep dark rings would form under her eyes, and bluish veins would shadow her white skin, as white as living marble. Getting up, she threw herself on the stone steps of a vault in the thick walls, where the icon of the mother of pains, dressed in silver and gold, was watching, on top of a smoky candle. Persuaded by the kneeling empress ’s prayers, the eyelids of the cold icon got wet and a tear ran down from the dark eye of God ’s mother. The empress stood up in all her glory, touched the cold tear with her dry lips and sucked it into the depth of her soul. That was the moment when she got pregnant. A month had passed, then two months, then nine, and the empress gave birth to a son, white as the milk froth, with moon-golden hair. The emperor smiled, the sun smiled too, in its fiery kingdom, it even stayed put, so for three days there was no night, only clear skies and merriment, - wine flowing from the opened barrels and shouts of joy breaking the heavens above. His mother called him “Prince Charming of the Tear And he grew up, he grew tall as the firs of the woods. He was growing in one day as