- published: 29 May 2015
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Wallachia or Walachia (Romanian: Țara Românească pronounced [ˈt͡sara romɨˈne̯askə] or Valahia pronounced [vaˈlahi.a]; archaic: Țeara Rumânească, Cyrillic: Цѣра Румѫнѣскъ / Цѣра Рȣмѫнѣскъ) is a historical and geographical region of Romania. It is situated north of the Danube and south of the Southern Carpathians. Wallachia is sometimes referred to as Muntenia (Greater Wallachia), through identification with the larger of its two traditional sections; the smaller being Oltenia (Lesser Wallachia).
Wallachia was founded as a principality in the early 14th century by Basarab I, after a rebellion against Charles I of Hungary, although the first mention of the territory of Wallachia west of the river Olt dates to a charter given to the voievod Seneslau in 1246 by Béla IV of Hungary. In 1415, Wallachia accepted the suzerainty of the Ottoman Empire; this lasted until the 19th century, albeit with brief periods of Russian occupation between 1768 and 1854. In 1859, Wallachia united with Moldavia (as United Principalities), to form the basis of the modern state of Romania, with Transylvania joining 59 years later (1918) to form the new Kingdom of Romania which was first established 1881.
I remember my mother's
Sister's husband's brother
Working in the goldmine full-time
Filling in for sunshine
Filing into tight lines
Of ordinary beehives
The door screams I hate you
Hate you hanging around my blue jeans
Why is there no breeze
No currency of leaves
No current through the water wire
No feelings I can see
I trust no emotion
I believe in locomotion
But I've turned to rust as we've discussed
Though I must have let you down
too many times
In the dirt and the dust
I have no idea how this happens
All of my maps have been overthrown
Happenstance has changed my plans
So many times my heart has been outgrown
Now everybody's feeling all alone
Can't tell you who I am
When everybody's feeling all alone
Can't tell you who I am
I am looking forward
Toward the shadows tracing bones
Our faces stitched and sewing
Our houses hemmed into homes
Trying to be thankful
Our stories fit into phones
And our voices lift so easily
A gift given accidentally
When we're not sure