#Gheron

[pier-carlo-universe]

Il 22 maggio lavoratori in sciopero davanti alla sede Aiop di Torino: contratti fermi da 7 e 13 anni, Regione Piemonte assente e Aiop in trasferta. Scopri di più su Alessandria today.

[atitudini]

Pr. Haralambie Dionisiatul – Cum dobândim dispoziția sufletească spre jertfă

Ascultați un cuvânt emoționant al Părintelui Iosif Dionisiatul, despre starețul său, Gheronda Haralambie Dionisiatul, un mare povățuitor duhovnicesc al Sf. Munte Athos, care prin ascultare și dispoziția sa de jertfă, putea să mute și munții din loc. Ascultarea face minuni, ne învață Părintele Haralambie Dionisiatul. Iar aceasta este accesibil și nouă celor de azi, nu doar creștinilor din…

[cydrone-studios]

Gheron Netta și Mircea Vulcănescu, două destine separate de istoria oficială

Gheron Netta s-a născut la 22 martie 1891 în Drobeta Turnu Severin. Provine dintr-o familie de intelectuali şi politicieni evrei cu vechi tradiţii şi care au jucat un rol important în viaţa spirituală şi politico-administrativă a judeţului Mehedinţi. A absolvit Liceul «Traian» din Drobeta Turnu Severin. Licenţiat al Academiei de Înalte Studii Economice din Bucureşti. În anul 1912 s-a în scris la…

[culturadealgibeira]

Reunião de pré-seleção em Villa Tittoni Traversi

Podes ler o artigo completo e na sua língua nativa no link do seu autor original: https://www.ilgiorno.it/monza-brianza/cronaca/incontro-di-preselezione-in-villa-0a65ebfa O Centro de Emprego Cesano Maderno de Afol Monza Brianza, em colaboração com o Município de Desio e as empresas Iperal Spa, Gruppo Gheron, Consorzio Desio Brianza, Gi Group Spa, Randstad Spa, Manpower Spa e outras empresas…

[closedcaptions25]

Hum bhi kisi ke dil ki hawalat me kaid the kabhi

Phir usne gheron ki zamanat par humen reha kardia...

[wannabewritersposts]

‏‎غیروں میں ہیں جو شاد، انھیں عید مبارک

جن کونہیں ہم یاد، انھیں عید مبارک

معصوم سے ارمانوں کی معصوم سی دنیا

جو کرگئے برباد، انھیں عید مبارک

محسن نقوی

Gheron mein hein jo shaad, unhe Eid Mubarak

Jinko hum nahi yaad, unhe Eid Mubarak

Masoom se armano ki masoom si dunia

Jo kar gye barbad, unhe Eid Mubarak

Mohsin Naqvi

Those who are merry in strangers, Eid Mubarak to them

Those who don't remember us, Eid Mubarak to them

Innocent world of innocent wishes

Those who ruined it, Eid Mubarak to them

[urdupoetrypoint]

Gheron se Baatein Sun Kar Apno se Behass Nahi Kartay.. #urduadab #urdulines #urdupoetrypoint (at Lahore, Pakistan) https://www.instagram.com/p/CU9uxVMsPg9/?utm_medium=tumblr

[be-wajhah]

nahi sajde kiye humne kabhi gheron ki chaukat per

I've never begged for something on a stranger's threshold,

humain jis ki zarurat ho khuda se maang lete hain.

for anything I need, I just request my God.

[sajid-waseem-u]

غیروں میں بٹ رہی ہے تیرے دید کی چاشنی

تیری آواز جن کا رزق ہے ، فاقوں سے مر گئے

Gheron main batt rahi hai teri deed ki chashni

Teri Awaaz jin a rizq hai faqon se mar gaye

[fondazioneterradotranto]

Nuovo post su https://is.gd/aFUlvV

Dialetti salentini: spichettu

di Armando Polito

La voce è usata da tempo solo nella locuzione trasire ti spichettu, corrispondente all’italiana entrare di straforo, intrufolarsi. Essa trae origine dal lessico sartoriale, in cui spichetto è sinonimo di gherone (dal germanico gairo=punta del giavellotto), lembo triangolare di stoffa applicato in passato (quando anziché buttare si adattava …)  alle cuciture laterali di un capo di vestiario, specialmente una camicia, per aumentarne l’ampiezza1. Trasire2 ti spichettu, perciò, è il frutto di un doppio slittamento metaforico (punta del giavellotto>pezzo di stoffa triangolare o gherone>inserirsi come un gherone).

Lo stesso processo è ravvisabile nell’italiano intrufolarsi, che ha comportato un doppio slittamento metaforico in quanto composto da in (=dentro)+trufolare =frugare, rimestare, denominale da un latino *tufer, variante del classico tuber (da cui tubero), incrociato, per di più, con grufolare (è il raspare il terreno col muso cercando cibo e grugnendo, tipico del maiale e del cinghiale). Ed a tuber pare collegarsi tartufo, che per i più deriva da terrae=della terra+*tufer/tuber 3 e con quest’etimo è connesso anche trifolare, essendo da trifola, voce settentrionale alterazione del latino tardo tubera (plurale, usato con valore collettivo, del classico tuber). A coronamento di questo festival degli slittamenti semantici concludo dicendo che, partendo dai connotati sotterranei e nascosti di ogni tubero e del tartufo in particolare, quest’ultimo poteva sfuggire al periodo letterario che segna il trionfo della metafora, cioè il Barocco?  E così esso è pure l’appellativo riservato  a chi ostenta falsa bontà e devozione religiosa, inventore Molière con il suo Le Tartuffe ou l’Imposteur. Ancora una volta il mondo vegetale scomodato per stigmatizzare un difetto umano. Ma almeno il tartufo, quello vero, può rivendicare nei confronti dei suoi simili vegetali come la zucca, il cetriolo, il finocchio, una quotazione di mercato di altissima rilevanza …

La lunga parentesi dedicata al tartufo mi stava quasi facendo sfuggire il fatto che nulla ho detto sull’etimo di spichettu4. Tolto l’evidentissimo suffisso diminutivo (il triangolo di stoffa deve giocoforza essere molto piccolo rispetto alla camicia da allargare), rimane spic-, tema del latino spica=punta (e lo spichettu è di norma un triangolo isoscele), da cui il nostro spiga, spigolo, e spicchio. In italiano sarebbe stato spichetto e infatti, anche se i moderni vocabolari non lo registrano, spichetto s’incontra in pubblicazioni del passato. L’immagine che segue è tratta da Tariffa generale della riscossione de’ dazi doganali nel Regno di Napoli, Stamperia reale, Napoli,1789, p. CXIX.

Tenendo conto che il palmo è equivalente a poco più di 26 cm e la canna a 2,10 m, ne risulta una stoffa che in larghezza ben si prestava a ricavarne aggiunte; e questo sarebbe sufficiente ad escludere che il riferimento sia alla tessitura spigata. Che spichetto, poi, sia l’italianizzazione di una voce napoletana o, comunque, meridionale me lo fa pensare il fatto che esso ricorre anche al di fuori del Regno di Napoli, come mostra l’immagine successiva tratta da Capitoli del Consolato dell’arte della seta di questa nobile, fedelissima ed esemplare città di Messina, Chiaramonte e Provenzano, Messina, 1727, p. 26.

E, infine, a sostegno dell’origine napoletana, in Vocabolario napoletano-toscano domestico di arti e mestieri di Raffaele D’ambra, Chiurazzi, Napoli, 1873, p. 487.

___________

1 In araldica è una pezza triangolare delimitata da due linee che si incrociano al centro dello scudo; in marina è un rinforzo applicato alla vela nei punti di maggiore sforzo e logorio

2 Dal latino transire=entrare, composto da trans=oltre+ire=andare.

3 Il calabrese tiritùfulu sembra confermarlo.

[echesii-blog]

Wolf of Telmor I

The clouds had cleared; the rain stopped – at least for now.  Echesii sat, her back against a tree, picking briars from Edirhi’s dark gray fur, scratching the hound as she stared into the darkness from beneath her hood with glowing blue eyes.

The smell.

The SMELL.

No Draenei should ever smell like that. Even the man’ari had not smelled like this.

Beneath it, though, she smelled the swamp.  It was both different and familiar. Different from all those years in Zangarmarsh, but still, it reeked of still water and decay.  Her thoughts drifted, and she thought of Ibiyaa and Mira. Both gone now, but they had been alive then.  Alive when they watched the borders of the marsh for the demon-corrupted orcs and other man’ari.

Gone. But she was still here.  She wondered how that was fair.

Absently, she patted Edirhi and he lay next to her, closing his eyes.  His ears fell slightly, but she knew he was alert.  He would sleep, but only lightly so.  He was on guard.

Echesii exhaled and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs.

Another exile returns home, she thought.  In the worst way possible.

She rested her head back against the tree and closed her eyes.  In the morning she would walk back to the road and flag someone down.  She would see the body on a ship to the Exodar. The anchorites would know what to do.

Still, we are fewer now.

She wondered if he died with regret, or if he had someone to confide in.

                                                           * * *

                                                   Six Years Ago

 It had started to snow an hour before, the large flurries coming slowly, and then gaining momentum as the sun began to set.  In a more southerly location, she might have approved, enjoying the beauty of a cool winter.  But here…. Here the snow was ugly and gray, the same steel-green color as the clouds that blotted the sky overhead.  What did fall didn’t stick, anyway, but instead melted, making the broken stone all the more slippery or the mud even thicker.  Moreover, it added to the smell.  The whole place stank of death; of rot, and man’ari.

Echesii flexed her fingers, stretching them out against the cold in a futile attempt to keep them limber.  The blue blood – not her blood, but Draenei blood still – was beginning to freeze under her nails.  Bitterly, she noted, Draenei were not built for the cold.

“I could call for help,” she said, finally.  “I don’t think I can drag you any further, even if we stripped off all your armor.  I can try, though.”

She pushed herself back to her hooves to emphasize her point, using her crystalline bow as a balance against her bad left knee and split hoof.  She glanced down, staring into the ashen face of the Draenei man she had traveled all this way to help.  He smiled and chuckled up at her, though the light of his eyes seemed to dim as he did.

“Autuern….”

“I don’t think it matters at this point.”  He absently fingered the blood-saturated bandages and turned his gaze to the side, reaching out with his other hand to scratch Edirhi under the chin. “You still haul this poor thing around?”

Echesii chuckled and slide back to a sitting position, her left leg splayed out in front of her.  She propped herself up against a large block of stone.  “Always,” she said.  The hound took a few steps forward and laid down, his chin resting in his paws a few feet from her hip.

For a moment she allowed her eyes to close. “What do you want to do then?”

“Carrying me any further isn’t an option.  Not on that leg.”

She shrugged in response.

“If you’re in pain, call for help,” Autuern said.

“I’m fine.”

He heaved a sigh and sat up, one arm across his bandaged chest. He propped himself up against the same stone as she, grunting in pain and effort.

“Then, thank you.”

“For what?”

“Coming here to rescue me.”

Echesii smiled softly.  “You’d have done the same.  Besides, I failed.”

“Maybe, but it’s the thought that counts.”

For a long moment they both stared into the creeping darkness.  What remained of what had once been the great troll kingdom lay broken and twisted. For a short moment, Echesii felt almost sort for the brutes.

“I am almost ready to die,” Autuern finally said.

“Almost?”  Echesii flashed him a crooked smile.  “Joining up with the Crusade, coming to this place… You probably had your affairs in order back home.”

“My wife won’t forgive me for this.”

“She’s forgiven you for worse.”

“Maybe.”  He paused. “Will your hear my regrets?”

“I’m not an anchorite, Autuern.”

“I know, but does it matter?  It’s a spiritual thing, yes, but there is no anchorite here, and I don’t wish for my soul to pass on burdened by regret.”

Echesii heaved a sigh, laying her bow across her lap.  She fingered the grip, stretching her numb fingers again.  “I already know your regrets.”

“True, but still….”

She shifted, pushing her back straight with her good hoof. “Just talk.”

Autuern put his tongue in his cheek and looked down at his hands, balling his fingers into fists to ward against the cold.

“I regret most of all what I did to you and your family.”

“You didn’t do anything.  It was my choice too, you know.”

“Will you let me get through this, please?” He grinned, and Echesii laughed.

“I regret my being foolish and even getting involved with a married woman.  I regret even more the pain it caused my wife, and the pain it caused you.”

Echesii sighed and pushed her bow out of her lap. “That’s a bunch of shit, and you know it.  I’d have stayed and died, or worse.”

“What about your daughter?”

“I’ve learned to live with that.”

A long pause, and then: “Such things we survive.”

Echesii signed and shook her head.  She stared into the distance, at the ragged trees and broken stones; the shadows of a fallen empire now beset my man’ari.  Absently, she wondered what Argus now looked like.  Was it still paradise – tainted yes, but still whole and beautiful, or was it a land destroyed, burned of life and its natural beauty.

“I also regret that I am your last connection to our home, and that you came out here to see me die. I know how you are, Echesii, and I hope you realize one day that the path you’ve chosen is a mistake. Even if Gheron is a fool, you still have a future.”  

She met his eyes.  “There, done,” he said. “Take a walk, and let me die in peace.”

She opened her mouth to protest, and then thought better. Biting her lip against the pain she rose to her hooves, favoring her left leg.  She turned, limping off the stone path.

“Light Bless, Echesii.”

“Light Bless,  Autuern.  May the Naaru guide your path.  Edirhi will stay to look after you.”

“Thank you.”

An hour later she hobbled back, and the old Draenei lay slumped on his side, dead.

[atitudini]

Gheron Iosif: Cine este povățuitorul adevărat și cum redobândim Harul

Ascultă, fiule, cum iconomisește înțeleptul Chivernisitor sfârșitul ispitelor și readucerea Harului Său dumnezeiesc. La sfârșit, când va cunoaște deja bine slăbiciunea firii omenești și va ajunge la adâncul smereniei, atunci Domnul îi va zice: „Ajunge lupta înăbușirii sufletești. Să-l ajutăm, așadar, pe acest rănit”. Și, iarăși, nu trimite îngeri ca să-l călăuzească, deoarece firea celui de al…

[thelosthealer]

Haunted Memories

(Trigger warning: Blood, gore, torture)

     Clutching her left arm, she ran from her home, frantic to find the source of the pain. There was only one person who’s pain she could feel, and that was her guardian. Fear clenched her heart as she cast her gaze about, trying to figure out which direction she should go. North. She needed to go north. She could only imagine how confused Thalo was at the moment, but she had no time to explain. Instead, she tucked the furs around her body tightly and took off running, not bothering to change forms yet. The burning intensified, causing tears to spring to her eyes as her chest heaved. Suddenly, a mile into the woods, the pain...stopped. Jerking to a halt, she spun in a circle, no longer sure which way to go.     The snap of a twig behind her caught her attention, causing her to glance over her shoulder. Mistake number one. A hard object caught her across the jaw, an explosion of pain blinding her. She tried to catch herself as she fell, though it was impossible. Her jaw was easily broken, a low wail dragging from deep within her. She was getting really tired of pain and people hurting her. Blazing blue eyes looked upwards, trying to make out the figure that loomed over her, but it was too late. A cloth was wrapped around her face, keeping her from seeing where she was being taken.    The figure hoisted her up, the smell of rotting flesh gagging her. Whatever held her was not entirely human, let alone living. Breathing through her mouth the best she could, she ignored the tears that trailed down her face from the pain. Each step was a jostle to her, radiating pain across her entire face. She could feel the onset of a headache, her eyes closing briefly. All she saw was darkness, the world blotted out. It seemed like days had passed, the figure never stopping or slowing. As it continued through the woods, a twig caught the cloth over her face, shifting it off just enough that she could see the ground beneath them. It was all dead, or dying, which made it nearly impossible for her to pull from it to mend her jaw.    Doing the best she could with what she had, she healed the broken bone, aching for the feel of the ground beneath her. Suddenly, the figure turned, the cloth being ripped from her face. In front of her was an old building, much like the ones the cultist used. Keeping her breathing as even as possible, she forced herself to go limp in the arms of the undead creature, hoping it would drop its guard some. Thankfully, it did. As it went to bend over, presumably to set her down, she lurched from his grasp, attempting to shift into her bird form to get away.    Before she could even fully shift, a gnarled hand grasped a wing, crushing it as if it were nothing more than a fragile glass. Her scream echoed around her, bouncing off the decrepit buildings and ringing in her own ears. Dropping to the ground like a sack of flour, she cradled the now destroyed arm, willing it to heal some. The cracking of her bones being forced back together, tied in with the pain, was enough to make her stomach roll. Slumping forward, she forced herself to breath, a hand reaching for the coin that she kept in her chest piece. The creature seemed to be expecting it, a hand shooting out to slap her hand away. Without a second thought, it forced her hands behind her back.    Dragging her to her feet, it forced her forward, making her walk into the building. When she dug her heels in, the creature jabbed its hand forward, a knife digging into her lower back. Without removing the knife, it shoved her forward again, not making a sound. Thinking of anything else other than the knife currently stuck within her, she gave up, putting on foot in front of the other.    Two tables were in the middle of the room, one with a Sin’dorei strapped across it, bleeding onto the floor beneath. The other table was empty, but covered in cuts and dried blood. Bile raised in her throat, threatening to choke her. Guiding her towards it, the creature removed the knife and forced her onto the table. Chains rattled, before her wrists and ankles were cuffed, strapping her to the table. A feminine voice chuckled from behind the creature, a masked face coming into view. “You should of already died, Ellorianna. You should of died with your parents in that fire, yet here you are, still fighting. Either way, we will get what we want from you, what your father stole from us, so maybe it was a good thing that you did not die in that fire.” the woman mused, shooing the undead creature away.    Leaning in, sharp nails dragged across her skin, thin lines of blood welling up. “You see, Ellorianna, your father stole a shard from us, and we want it back. We can’t raise my husband without it, yet your father was dead set on him never being raised.” the woman hissed into L’s ear, still dragging nails across her skin. “And seeing as you are his most prized possession, so much that he warded you, we are going to make sure everyone knows your weakness. Void makes you sick, does it not? Makes you weak, and unable to heal? Hmmm...I wonder what void users would think if they could actually see your runes, read them...” she trailed off, straightening.    Picking up a knife, the woman began cutting away L’s armor, the furs and leather she wore being casted to the side in a ruined heap. L’s eyes went wide, gaze stuck on the large blade in the woman’s hand. “We are going to play a game, you see. I want my husband back, and you want your life back. So for every time you give me no answer, I will carve one of your runes. Your parents did well to blend them into your skin, but I will make sure they scar in such a way that they will be visible to all. Do you understand?” she questioned, not waiting for an answer before she struck out at the first rune, the tip of the knife cutting through L’s skin as if it were butter. A second later, blood was running down her wrist, the rune cut precisely.    “I have no idea what you are talking about, or what you want. My parents never told me anything about a shard, and my father never passed it on to me. Why would my father steal the shard that belonged to your husband to begin with!?” L exclaimed, shying away as the woman leaned close once more. “Silly girl...your father stole the shard because it contained the soul of his brother. The very brother that wanted you dead, along with your mother, because he hated those of nature. So, your father killed him. I managed to seal his soul into a shard in the hopes of reviving him, but your father manged to steal that from me. Now I want it back.”    Blanching, L had no words. She had nothing to offer this woman, no answers to give, and the woman seemed to know that. Would this make her L’s aunt? Tugging on the chains, she gasped out when they tightened, blades from within digging into her wrist, shredding the skin. “You won’t be getting away that easily, little dove. No no, you will give me answers, or I’ll kill you in the process and enjoy every moment of it.” her aunt rasped, a coy smile tugging at her lips from under the mask.    Question after question, the woman asked, none of which she had an answer to. Within the first hour, both her arms were bleeding and carved up like a piece of meat on display. As the time passed, the woman seemed to grow tired of the games, moving to more desperate measures. When L could not give an answer, she began dragging a hunting knife across her lower back, blood seeping from the wound sluggishly. It gleamed with a bright green flare, enchanted with some sort of magic that L had no clue of. Cut after cut, L could feel her life force draining, her body no longer holding the crimson liquid that kept her alive. Her aunt seemed to notice it, because a vial was pressed to her lips, her jaw forced open as the contents were dumped into her mouth. When she refused to swallow, the woman sank a thin blade into her thigh, the liquid sliding down her throat when she screamed.    With a pleased expression, her aunt trailed a nail down L’s chest, humming softly. “You have no idea how much this pleases me, little one. I quite enjoy a good show, and you are the perfect actor. Since you won’t tell me more, I will simply stop asking. Instead, I will finish carving all of your runes, and then I will let Gheron have his own fun. My undead lovely sure does enjoy blood.” she informed L, growing silent as her knife began cutting once more. Gritting her teeth together, L fought against the pain, trying to keep from crying out, though that did not last long. When she squirmed, another blade was forced into her body, this one nicking a lung.    Each breath was a rasp, the feel of fluid in her lungs enough to nearly send her into a panic. Was this how she was going to die, drowning in her own blood? A cough seized her body, a rush of blood pouring from her mouth with it. Her aunt simply paused before returning to her work when L stilled, her body numb to the pain by this point. Closing her eyes, she focused on breathing, her lungs rattling with each intake.

   After what felt like an eternity, the woman stopped, leaning back and admiring her work upon L’s body. Content, she motioned for the undead creature to shamble forward, gesturing towards L. “Take your fill of her, but do not kill her. When you are done, come join me. We will work on preparing a body for my husband.” she told Gheron, giving the creature an affectionate pat on his ruined face. As a final good bye, the woman raked her claws across L’s stomach, holding her hand up to admire the dark blood that now dripped from blackened fingertips. “Mmm...” she whispered, sucking on a finger before walking out of the building.

    Disgust filled L as it approached her, now that she could clearly see it. It’s body was a mix-matched patchwork art of pieces, stitched and sewn together like it was nothing more than a blanket. It’s jaw was rotting in some places, most of its teeth missing. Hair hung in clumps, while other spots were bald or missing chunks of skin all together.   Gheron sat on the edge of the table, a ghoulish finger dipping into the pool of blood that was beneath her. Slowly, it lifted the finger to its mouth, letting a drop land on its discolored tongue. Its bland eyes seemed to grow wider at the taste of her blood, a manic cackle echoing around them as it leaned over and began licking across her body. Its tongue was rough, almost like sandpaper, as it dragged across her skin. Each pass was a flare of pain, the broken skin reopening wherever it was touched.    For nearly an hour she endured the pain of it lapping blood from her body, the creature making odd noises in the back of its throat with each swallow. Her stomach rolled once more, no longer able to handle the feeling of it. She could feel the darkness threatening to envelope her, welcome her into its arms, something she so desperately wanted. Anything to get away from the reality of what was currently happening to her. Digging deep, she forced herself to concentrate, reaching out for the person she healed last. She had no idea if her magic would work, but she knew she had to try.    Imagining the woods that she spent all her time in, she centered herself on the spot she had last healed Ivan at. Her concentration was broke as another bloody cough racked her body, much to the enjoyment of Gheron. Spitting the blood out, she forced herself back into her mind, reaching for the connection she had just brushed against. Ivan, she had to get a message to Ivan. With what last willpower she held, she hoped the nature would carry the message, only able to manage a single word. “Ghostlands...”

Mentions: @ivanvukoja & Thalo.

[asmazaheer]

Heat germi say log intahaai parishan hen.daily around 6 hours tuk loadshedding b jheltay hen... Alhumdulillah hmaray gheron men to pta hi Nahi chalta,ups or stand by generator say Zindagi buhat asaan hy ..per lower middle class k log intehaai takleef men hen ..ap sub say request hy k in tamam logon k liye khas k dua kren plzz.. Patients, pregnant ladies,old ppl everyone is suffering a lot that we can't imagine... Allah paak hmen is germi or specially Jahannum ki germi say bachaen.Ameen https://www.instagram.com/p/Cdg_MDxIorh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[bollywoodproduct]

Lyrics Baahon Me Teri Masti Ke Ghere

Lyrics Baahon Me Teri Masti Ke Ghere

Lyrics in English | Baahon Me Teri Masti Ke Ghere | Kaala Patthar-1979 | Mohammed Rafi, Lata Mangeshkar Baahon MeTeriMasti Ke GhereSaanson Me TeriKhushbu Ke DereBaahon Me TeriMasti Ke Ghere (2)Saanson Me TeriKhushbu Ke Dere (2)Masti Ke Gheron MeKhushbu Ke Deron MeHum Khoye Jaate HainBaahon Me TeriMasti Ke Ghere (2)Saanson Me TeriKhushbu Ke Dere (2)Masti Ke Gheron MeKhushbu Ke Deron MeHum Khoye…

[rivalmythos]

Portrait of the airship Captain Gheron from a D&D campaign I’m in. As far as I know this is the only oil painting style drawing I’ve actually finished haha