Balaur Bondoc — Franz Nopcsa von Felső-Szilvás
Strange bird from a different nest, Flying low not like all the rest, If you can’t catch him, you can’t claim him, If you can’t see him you can’t name him — Jimmy Buffett
The story of a dinosaur from the island of Transylvania in the old tropics.
Franz Nopcsa von Felső-Szilvás
Franz Nopcsa von Felső-Szilvás was a famous paleontologist who discovered the island phenomena in evolution, he created the science of paleobiology and was the first ethnographer of Albania.
The baron was one of the great scholars and scientific minds of his time — and was largely self-taught. He was one of the first scientists to look at fossilized dinosaur bones and see a living, social creature. In fact, he was a staunch believer in the evolutionary relationship between birds and dinosaurs, decades before the idea became widely accepted among paleontologists. His overall contributions to the field have led some to call him the forgotten father of dinosaur paleobiology.
Nopcsa was equally brilliant as a structural geologist. While most of the scientific community still scoffed at the theory of continental drift, he provided some of the strongest evidence for such movement. He mapped the geology of Albania and became one of the country’s foremost ethnographers and historians.
Balaur Bondoc in the Forest
This poem is based on a fairly recently discovered fossil from Romania. There is a lot of debate whether the animal was a dinosaur or an early bird. The fossil remains were found in a land that is considered to be the subject of myth in Western literature. The animal has a unique anatomy as it evolved in an island environment so while it has equivalents in North America, the animal itself is very small.
The poem is illustrated by the web-comic: https://www.deviantart.com/transapient/art/Hateg-Comic-Page-1-773666343
Balaur
There is a dragon in the East, hiding in the forest and rock.
It is a stocky, weird creature from the distant past,
Only found with due luck!
Some say it is a dinosaur, some say it is, a bird,
A creature from the land beyond the forest,
Hidden within tall mountains,
Majestic castles,
Warm summer showers that have the sweet smell of earth.
The creature is covered in feathers,
Lays eggs, and nests its young,
Two massive claws on the front feet,
As it jumps from branch to branch,
Its long tail covered in beautiful feathers,
It dances in the light, that shoots through the leafy cover,
It spins through with great grace across the flowery forest,
It glides in the gentle breeze as she looks out on the lush farm fields,
On the meadows of the Land of Szekelys, Saxons, Armenians, Semites, Romanians, of all creeds.
Their towns made of rustic little houses,
Tucked neatly into the green valley,
All the roofs covered in golden yellow hay,
Little fences run between the cottages,
As the centre road leads to the distant church tower,
Next to the Cross of Christ, a synagogue,
A blocky building painted in merry orange and decorated in colourful lead glass,
Next to it another church, of the Unitarians,
A virgin white flag flutters on its spire,
On it the Dove of God,
Standing tall and proud on the green hills,
Topping the dove, is a blessed crown of many jewels,
The entire entourage rounded by the silver Ouroboros.
Cows belch away in the distance,
As little bells jingle away,
As young lambs skippity hop,
Across the green plots,
They stretch from the white washed walls of the houses,
To the West, to the edges of the forest,
To the East, onto the shores of an emerald azure lake.
A truly bright blue sky enlightens the day,
As the sky and the lake join together,
As our attention returns to the green patch of the forest,
To the creature, resting on the branches,
As fluffy little clouds like her feathers,
Gently drift over the tree line, over the richly flowing rivers.
The waters sparkle in the sunshine ,
Like her deep eyes,
As each stream enters the deep blue lake, rich with fish,
The riverbanks buzz with life,
A heron wobbles in the shallow waters,
A flock of ducks take off from the blue surface,
A kingfisher dashes into the lake,
A bee-eater glides across, catching a lazy fly,
A red-backed shrike chases behind,
Eagles circle far above.
A Concert of Europe.
A chorus of birds sing from the marsh running between the woods and the water.
A man with a tall mustache,
Pushes away his boat from the shoreline,
He is dressed like one of those Albanian shepherds,
That from time to time wonder over the border,
A sword and pistol tucked into his silk belt,
With a shepherd’s sheep fur coat on his back,
He wears a tall, fur black cap.
He rows his boat with great confidence,
A dashing fellow,
The son of the black crow,
In his boat a few loose bones of dragons,
Maps and charts of broad colours,
And some scattered books with folded pages:
Le Château des Carpathes by Jules Verne,
Szegény Gazdagók by Jokai Mór,
The History of the Progress and Termination of the Roman Republic by Adam Ferguson,
Götz von Berlichingen by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,
O scrisoare pierdută by Ion Luca Caragiale.
This shepherd is indeed well educated!
The Albanian continues his journey across the lake, with each strokes,
He eagerly looks over the broad green horizon.
The flying creature watches him from the rich green tree branch,
As she breaks into a regal song,
That could touch a heart,
(Well… It does!)
She is a regal creature to behold,
Balaur Bondoc,
As the man of modern would call it, stocky dragon,
Named after the noble creature,
Stocky for her short posture,
Her Loyalty is named after true beauty!
