brosa handmade 8 RON           

smiley face -8 RON +lant

brosa handmade 9 RON

    colier  10 RON                                                                        

  inghetata cu magnet -6 RON

pandantiv handmade 8 RON +lant

cercei handmade 10 RON

Mana care ma va strange as vrea sa fie a ta

Patul nefacut din viata mea as vrea sa poarte

urma ta.

A TA…

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CYRANO : Look you, it was my life To be the prompter every one forgets! (To Roxane): That night when ‘neath your window Christian spoke – Under your balcony, you remember? Well! There was the allegory of my whole life: I, in the shadow, at the ladder’s foot, While others lightly mount to Love and Fame! Just! very just! Here on the threshold drear Of death, I pay my tribute with the rest, To Moliere’s genius, – Christian’s fair face! (The chapel-bell chimes. The nuns are seen passing down the alley at the back, to say their office): Let them go pray, go pray, when the bell rings! ROXANE (rising and calling): Sister! Sister! CYRANO (holding her fast): Call no one. Leave me not; When you come back, I should be gone for aye. (The nuns have all entered the chapel. The organ sounds): I was somewhat fain for music – hark! ’tis come. ROXANE: Live, for I love you! CYRANO: No, In fairy tales When to the ill-starred Prince the lady says ‘I love you!’ all his ugliness fades fast – But I remain the same, up to the last! ROXANE: I have marred your life – I, I! CYRANO: You blessed my life! Never on me had rested woman’s love. My mother even could not find me fair: I had no sister; and, when grown a man, I feared the mistress who would mock at me. But I have had your friendship – grace to you A woman’s charm has passed across my path. LE BRET (pointing to the moon, which is seen between the trees): Your other lady-love is come. CYRANO (smiling): I see. ROXANE: I loved but once, yet twice I lose my love! CYRANO: Hark you, Le Bret! I soon shall reach the moon. To-night, alone, with no projectile’s aid!. . . LE BRET: What are you saying? CYRANO: I tell you, it is there, There, that they send me for my Paradise, There I shall find at last the souls I love, In exile, – Galileo – Socrates! LE BRET (rebelliously): No, no! It is too clumsy, too unjust! So great a heart! So great a poet! Die Like this? what, die. . .? CYRANO: Hark to Le Bret, who scolds! LE BRET (weeping): Dear friend. . . CYRANO (starting up, his eyes wild): What ho! Cadets of Gascony! The elemental mass – ah yes! The hic. . . LE BRET: His science still – he raves! CYRANO: Copernicus Said. . . ROXANE: Oh! CYRANO: Mais que diable allait-il faire, Mais que diable allait-il faire dans cette galere?. . . Philosopher, metaphysician, Rhymer, brawler, and musician, Famed for his lunar expedition, And the unnumbered duels he fought, – And lover also, – by interposition! – Here lies Hercule Savinien De Cyrano de Bergerac, Who was everything, yet was naught. I cry you pardon, but I may not stay; See, the moon-ray that comes to call me hence! (He has fallen back in his chair; the sobs of Roxane recall him to reality; he looks long at her, and, touching her veil): I would not bid you mourn less faithfully That good, brave Christian: I would only ask That when my body shall be cold in clay You wear those sable mourning weeds for two, And mourn awhile for me, in mourning him. ROXANE: I swear it you!. . . CYRANO (shivering violently, then suddenly rising): Not there! what, seated? – no! (They spring toward him): Let no one hold me up – (He props himself against the tree): Only the tree! (Silence): It comes. E’en now my feet have turned to stone, My hands are gloved with lead! (He stands erect): But since Death comes, I meet him still afoot, (He draws his sword): And sword in hand! LE BRET: Cyrano! ROXANE (half fainting): Cyrano! (All shrink back in terror.) CYRANO: Why, I well believe He dares to mock my nose? Ho! insolent! (He raises his sword): What say you? It is useless? Ay, I know But who fights ever hoping for success? I fought for lost cause, and for fruitless quest! You there, who are you! – You are thousands! Ah! I know you now, old enemies of mine! Falsehood! (He strikes in air with his sword): Have at you! Ha! and Compromise! Prejudice, Treachery!. . . (He strikes): Surrender, I? Parley? No, never! You too, Folly, – you? I know that you will lay me low at last; Let be! Yet I fall fighting, fighting still! (He makes passes in the air, and stops, breathless): You strip from me the laurel and the rose! Take all! Despite you there is yet one thing I hold against you all, and when, to-night, I enter Christ’s fair courts, and, lowly bowed, Sweep with doffed casque the heavens’ threshold blue, One thing is left, that, void of stain or smutch, I bear away despite you. (He springs forward, his sword raised; it falls from his hand; he staggers, falls back into the arms of Le Bret and Ragueneau.) ROXANE (bending and kissing his forehead): ‘Tis?. . . CYRANO (opening his eyes, recognizing her, and smiling): MY PANACHE.

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