Some say that the beautiful, red flowers that we see in fields and plains, called poppies, were not here from the beginning, but appeared later, more recently, from the pain in the mother’s heart.
Once, a long time ago, a poor, widow mother had a precious son that she gazed at like the light in the eyes. He was kind and well-behaved and listened to his mother’s words like they were the holy Gospel.
One day, as the poor woman didn’t have much to eat and not knowing what to feed the boy, took a huckaback with details on the edge that she had as a gift from her mother, when she married, and, giving it folded to the boy, she sent him to another village, at some relatives of hers, to trade it for a bucket of cornmeal and a bit of cheese. But the widow’s cottage was at the end of the village and to pass to the next village, one had to cross a big, dark forest and then a plain and after that a hill and a valley that was very desolate.
The woman was worried sick, thinking that her son, who could barely stand on his feet because of hunger and poverty, had to walk for so long, but what was she to do? She prayed, made the child pray as well and say a “God, help us” and sent him off.
The boy left when the sun was up, and now evening was coming and the poor boy still hadn’t returned. His mother was walking around, went out the door, shaded her eyes with her hand and searched the horizon. No sign of the boy. When she saw that the sun was coming down but the boy still hadn’t returned, she put her huckaback on, jammed the door and, more dead than alive, left to find her son.
First she took it slow, crossed the forest and went out on the plain. From time to time, she called her son by his name, hoping he would answer, but the woods were silent as the dead. She started to fear death and went through the thorn bushes and wherever she landed her foot, it was still swamping into the thorns and coming out with stains of blood, not that she felt any pain, because all she felt in her soul was the ache for her son who got lost or, God forbid, was eaten by the wild beasts in the forest.
And as she ran as fast as she could, drops of blood were falling from her wounded feet and everywhere they landed, another big, red flower was rising from the ground, until the entire field was full of them. Only when she was yelling louder and full of sadness: “Ionica, Ionica”, she heard from across the hill the low voice of a child, coming from afar, humming: “Mother, mother”.
The woman stopped feeling the tiring ascent of the hill and the descent of the valley and in no time she was next to the child, where she collapsed.
After she pulled herself together, she hugged her son and returned home with him. But as they were passing through the field, lo and behold! Red flowers everywhere.
It is then that they say poppies had appeared on Earth.
sursa: Legende – Alcaturire: Nona Vrabie