Get lost in the mazes of the past. Left Bank Prague
Description:
... I see a high city whose glory touches the stars. – Princess Libusha “How will the city be known?” asked the faithful. “I don’t know — say it — call it something. The first word you get, for example. The first thing that got in the way of the confused people was the threshold. They called it the “high city” and named it. Threshold - Prague - Prague. And this city was truly high above all the villages, and its glory was heard all over the world. Merchants of foreign countries came here, brought outlandish goods: salt from the Baltic was carried; vodka, honey from Mother Russia; satin, brocade from Asia. And the people went to a marvelous look, and a summary of the news to exchange. Here, they say, the prince-father builds a temple of beauty unseen, prepared for the relics of the saints, it will be for us now the grace of God, let us live, let us rejoice. The prince built both a temple and a palace for himself, everything is princely and rich. People wonder, women to be baptized - how beautiful the buildings!
And the people settled in this city to a beautiful place nearby. And their houses were heterogeneous in narrow streets next to each other. Here is the crooked facade - "the house at the hammer", here the blacksmith-well forges hammers, his daughter is a red girl for extradition, who desired a golden ring. And her fiancé, Thomas the neighbor, sold the devil the soul of a boy to give a ring to any girl. In a black house with a leaky roof lives an old witch. To her poor butterflies go - to catch up the spell on the unfaithful husband, or to spoil to send on a breakaway.
On a dark night, the spirits of the dead fly through the narrow streets illuminated by burning packets and frighten the belated passer-by. He runs without looking back in a cold sweat to the gates of his dwelling, feeling behind his back the breath of unclean force, on the move to be baptized and zealously repeats “our father” as the last time in his life. Scary. Terrible. And the yellow torch lights, like the eyes of Satan, show him off.
Previously, in the labyrinths of the alleys of old Prague, another life lived. The people vehemently believed in God, feared the devil, but, like us today, loved, hated, rejoiced, envied, hoped and worked. I want to show you exactly this Prague. Prague through the eyes of its inhabitants of days long past, and it is these residents built. Their lives have long been lived outside the walls of gingerbread houses, but I want to tell you their stories, so that it is with them that you associate every old house, and not with the phrase: “the Baroque era, the year of building so-and-so.”