The Pitcher Poem by ion untaru

Through old things and from a fair
I discovered a pitcher
With round belly, like a picture
A coveted trophy, without paire

Used by ancestors in may
When the chronicler Ureche
An old passed period, eke
I tingly look at him, today

Painted with art, flowers of wether
Wives taken it to work in dawn
To harvest wheat in a good saison
And finally to grind, it's reason
Relics and ornaments together
Over time, shines like a crown

Ureche, romanian famous chronicler, XVII th century
(translated from romanian)