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Blacksmith Sayings Proverbs


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Кузнец и Смерть 

Blacksmith and Death   .    .   .Translation to English at the next post.

За спиной у кузнеца вдруг раздался низкий, чуть хрипловатый голос:
- Ты – кузнец?
Кузнец, чье имя было Василий, от неожиданности вздрогнул и чуть не выронил молоток. Он не слышал, чтобы кто-то заходил.
- Стучаться никогда не пробовали? – грубо спросил Василий, досадуя на себя и на шустрого клиента.
- Стучаться?.. Нет, пока как-то не доводилось…
Кузнец схватил со стола первую попавшуюся тряпку и вытер грязные от работы, мозолистые руки. Мысленно готовя в голове речь для нежданного незнакомца, Василий повернулся. И выронил кусок грязной ткани из рук. К нему заглянул весьма необычный клиент.
- Косу мне не выправишь? – хрипловато произнесла гостья в черном.
- Все? Конец? – бескровными губами тихо уточнил Василий.
- Нет, но значительно хуже, чем раньше, - глубокомысленно изрекла Смерть.
- Не поспоришь, - вздохнул кузнец. – Так что мне нужно сейчас сделать?
- Привести мне косу в годное состояние, – терпеливо объяснила гостья.
- А дальше?..
- А дальше еще и наточи, если время останется.
Василий осмотрел косу. И правда, есть что поправить – есть несколько выщербин, лезвие пошло волной.
- Это я понял. Я спрашиваю, мне-то что делать. Вроде как не каждый день…кхм, на тот свет отправляешься.
- А, ты об этом, - плечи смерти тихонько затряслись в беззвучном смехе. – Я не за тобой. Поправь, пожалуйста, косу.
- Так я не умираю?!
- Ну, на вид вроде здоровый мужик будешь. Как самочувствие? Нигде не болит? Руки-ноги целы?
- Н-нигде, - запинаясь, ответил кузнец.
- В таком случае, можешь не дергаться, - сказала Смерть и всучила мужчине косу.
Взяв ее в моментально сделавшиеся ватными руки, кузнец прикинул. Работы минут на 40, но с такой гостьей на все два часа потянет. А если она еще и за спиной стоять будет…
- Не будете же вы все время стоять, присаживайтесь, - участливо кивнул Василий на скамейку.
- И то верно. В ногах правды нет, - усмехнулась Смерть, и бесшумно прошествовала на лавку.
* * *
Работа практически была закончена.
Кузнец бережно держал лезвие в руках.
- Вы простите, но я просто не могу поверить, что держу в руках такое оружие. С его помощью было угроблено столько жизней… Ни одно другое на земле, наверное, не сравнится с ним.
Смерть, сидевшая в непринужденной позе и разглядывавшая убранство кузницы, заметно напряглась от этих слов.
- Что ты сказал? – темный капюшон медленно повернулся в сторону Василия.
- Я сказал, что не верю своим глазам. У меня в руках оружие…
- Ты сказал «оружие»?..
- Я, может, не совсем верно выразился, но…
В секунду Смерть оказалась перед лицом побледневшего кузнеца. Капюшон зловеще подрагивал.
- Сколько человек я, по-твоему, убила? – грозно спросила Смерть.
- Я…не знаю… - пятясь, пролепетал Василий.
- Отвечай сейчас же! СКОЛЬКО?! – крикнула Смерть ему прямо в лицо.
- Да почем мне знать, сколько их было! – не своим голосом взвизгнул кузнец.
Смерть отпустила рубашку мужчины, за которую крепко ухватилась, сама того не замечая. Неслышно отошла она к скамейке и присела на краешек.
- Я тебе одну вещь скажу, кузнец. Представь себе, я никогда никого не убивала. Ни одного человека.
- Но.. откуда же.. как..
- Я скажу еще раз. Никогда. Никого. Зачем? Вы сами прекрасно справляетесь: можете убить ради удовольствия или ради каких-то несчастных бумажек. А когда вам становится этого мало, вы устраиваете войны, и гибнут тысячи, десятки тысяч людей. Вы стали зависимыми от чужой крови. А самое противное, что у вас даже не хватает смелости признаться себе в этом! Вы во всем вините меня! – Смерть умолкла. – Знаешь, какая я была раньше? Я была красивой, юной девушкой, я дарила людям цветы, провожая их на ту сторону, я пела им песни… Посмотри ж, что со мной стало!
С последними словами Смерть вскочила и скинула капюшон.
Пред взором кузнеца предстало дряхлое, испещренное морщинами лицо. Седые волосы клочьями свисали по бокам. Но самыми страшными были глаза. Абсолютно выцветшие, ничего не выражающие, они в упор уставились на Василия.
- Вот, кем я стала,
полюбуйся! А знаешь почему?!
- Н-нет, - вжавшись в станок, ответил кузнец.
- Конечно нет… Вы все ничего не знаете, ничего, кроме себя, не замечаете… Это вы, люди, сделали меня такой! Я видела, как мать убивает детей, как сын умерщвляет отца! Как брат душит брата. Я рыдала, я выла от отчаяния не понимая вас…
Глаза Смерти наполнились хрустальными слезами.
- Тогда я сменила свое красивое платье на этот черный плащ, чтобы на нем менее заметна была кровь людей, которых я провожала. Я стала надевать капюшон, чтобы никто не видел моих слез… Вы сами превратили меня в чудовище и обвинили во всех своих бедах… Я не убиваю людей, я показываю им дорогу. Отдай мою косу, мне нечего больше сказать тебе, человек.
Выдернув из рук кузнеца свою косу, Смерть направилась к выходу.
- Ответь лишь на один вопрос! – послышалось сзади.
- Любопытство берет верх, да? Ты хочешь спросить, зачем же мне тогда коса?..
- Да.
- Дорога в Рай уже давно заросла густой, высокой травой.

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Blacksmith and Death

A low, slightly hoarse voice suddenly rang out from behind the blacksmith: - Are you a blacksmith? The blacksmith, whose name was Vasily, shuddered in surprise and almost dropped the hammer. He did not hear anyone stop by. - Have you ever tried knocking? - Basil asked rudely, annoyed with himself and the nimble client. - Knocking? .. No, until somehow it was not ... The blacksmith grabbed the first rag from the table and wiped dirty, callused hands from the work. Mentally preparing a speech for an unexpected stranger in his head, Vasily turned around. And dropped a piece of dirty cloth from his hands. To him looked a very unusual client. Guest. - So what is next?..

- And then more and sharpen, if time remains. Vasily examined the scythe. And the truth is, there is something to fix - there are a few chinks, the blade went in a wave. - I understood it. I ask me what to do. It seems like not every day ... ahem, you go to the next world. - Oh, you about it, - the shoulders of death quietly began to shake in silent laughter. - I'm not behind you. Please correct the braid. - So I do not die? - Well, you look like a healthy man. How are you feeling? Doesn't it hurt anywhere? Are your arms and legs intact? “N-nowhere,” said the blacksmith stammered.

“In that case, you can not twitch,” Death said, and she lent a braid to the man. Taking it in hands that instantly became wadded, the blacksmith wondered. Works for 40 minutes, but with such a guest for all the two hours will pull. And if she is still standing behind her back ... - You will not stand all the time, sit down, - Vasily nodded sympathetically on the bench. - And that is true. There is no truth in the legs, - Death grinned, and silently marched onto the bench. * * * The work was almost completed. The blacksmith gently held the blade in his hands. “You will forgive me, but I just cannot believe that I am holding such a weapon in my hands.” With his help, so many lives were ditched ... No other thing on earth, probably, can compare with him.

Death, sitting in a relaxed position and looking at the decoration of the forge, visibly stiffened by these words. - What you said? - the dark hood slowly turned towards Vasily. - I said that I do not believe my eyes. I have a weapon in my hands ... - Did you say "weapon"? .. “I may not quite put it right, but ...” In a second, Death was in the face of a pale blacksmith. The hood trembled ominously. “How many people do you think I killed?” - Death asked menacingly.

“I ... I don’t know ...” backing Vasily muttered. - Answer me now! HOW MUCH?! - Shouted Death in his face. - Yes, how do I know how many were there! The blacksmith squealed, not with his own voice. Death let go of the shirt of the man, for whom she firmly grasped, without noticing it herself. Silently she went to the bench and sat on the edge. - I'll tell you one thing, blacksmith. Imagine, I never killed anyone. Not a single person. - But .. where did .. how ..

- I will say it again. Never. No one. What for? You yourself do an excellent job: you can kill for fun or for some unfortunate pieces of paper. And when this becomes not enough for you, you arrange wars, and thousands, tens of thousands of people die. You have become addicted to someone else's blood. And the worst thing is that you don’t even have the courage to admit this to yourself! You blame me! - Death has ceased. - Do you know how I was before? I was a beautiful, young girl, I gave people flowers, accompanying them to the aside, I sang songs to them ... Look, what happened to me! With the last words, Death jumped up and took off the hood. The smith's face showed a decrepit, wrinkled face. Gray hair dangled from side to side. But the most terrible were the eyes. Absolutely faded, not expressing anything, they stared at Basil. - That's what I became, admire! Do you know why? “N-no,” squeezed into the machine, the blacksmith answered.

- Of course not ... You all know nothing, do not notice anything except yourself ... It was you, people, who made me like this! I saw how a mother kills children, how a son kills a father! How brother smothers brother. I was crying, I was crying out of despair, not understanding you ... The eyes of Death were filled with crystal tears.

“Then I changed my beautiful dress to this black cape so that it was less noticeable was the blood of the people I accompanied. I began to wear a hood so that no one saw my tears ... You yourself turned me into a monster and accused of all your troubles ... I do not kill people, I show them the way. Give me my scythe, I have nothing more to tell you, man. Pulling out her scythe from the hands of a blacksmith, Death headed for the exit. - Answer only one question! - heard from behind.

- Curiosity takes over, right? You want to ask, why should I then spit? .. - Yes. - The road to Paradise has long been overgrown with thick, tall grass.

 

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I had forgotten the name of this thread, so I could not post a saying to it.

But here it is.

So let me add another saw to the collection.

The great surrealist painter Senõr Salvador Dali had this to say,

           "have no fear of perfection you will never each it."

He was,  also,  a superb artist. (I.M.O.)

SLAG.

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I spent some time in Prague working with a blacksmith. He indicated a source of steady work in Europe was making forgeries. He did not mean "to falsefy" or anything negative, but to recreate a piece for many reasons such as to match an existing piece. Sometimes they needed to even match, as close as possible, the chemical makeup of the wrought iron. He made a distinction between historical restoration and forgeries. 

I noted the difference in common usage between here in the US and his use wrt the blacksmiths craft as a major legitimate part of their income.

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This came to me via the BOA news letter.

My grandfather worked in a blacksmith shop when he was a boy, and he used to tell me, when I was a
little boy myself, how he had toughened himself up so he could stand the rigors of blacksmithing.
One story was how he had developed his arm and shoulder muscles. He said he would stand outside
behind the house and, with a 5 pound potato sack in each hand, extend his arms straight out to his sides
and hold them there as long as he could.
After awhile he tried 10 pound potato sacks, then 50 pound potato sacks and finally he got to where he
could lift a 100 pound potato sack in each hand and hold his arms straight out for more than a full
minute!
Next, he started putting potatoes in the sacks.


:lol:

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  • 2 months later...

"The bigger the file, the bigger the smile" Mr Barnard MOD apprentice training centre 1987

Told to every young engineer being overcautious with his file choices 

 

Another, but specific to that training centre... "That has a wee in it, you'll see it better in daylight" 

Goes outside offers it up to the light, professionally perusing it's surface, then throws it as far as he can into the woods whilst shouting "weeee" 

Mr White I believe he was called 

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  • 4 months later...

so this one I believe came from the original folded Damascus "increase it 10 fold" as well as to "increase it one-hundred-fold" as each fold multiplies the steel by 2 so first fold makes 2 (2x1) then 4(2x2) 8(2x4) and so on and some blades would be folded hundreds of times

that al for now so "forge on":D

"sorry that might of hit to hard";)

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On 11/24/2019 at 2:07 AM, caotropheus said:

Portuguese proverb:

"Casa de ferreiro, espeto de pau" direct translation "Blacksmith's house, wood skewer" meaning, the blacksmith will do metal tools and makes them perfect for everyone...but, at home he neglects his own metal stuff or even never used them...

Kinda the same thing as, "The cobbler's children are always barefoot."

Pnut

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Of course you can't really talk about layers when the number would put it below the size of an iron atom---unless the forgers are dying of radiation poisoning from "splitting the atom".  As forge welding lowers the carbon content, (The Master swordsmiths of Japan can start with close to 2% Carbon and end up with 0.5% Carbon after repeated welding!),  what you get is a nicely homogenous low carbon steel  much like you can buy at a good steel distributor...

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On 7/6/2020 at 3:48 AM, Ianincornwall said:

Another, but specific to that training centre... "That has a wee in it, you'll see it better in daylight" 

Goes outside offers it up to the light, professionally perusing it's surface, then throws it as far as he can into the woods whilst shouting "weeee" 

Mr White I believe he was called 

In linework, we call that “checking the pitch.” It is a much loved tradition for messing with the new guy. You ask if he has checked the pitch of “x” tool yet. It is vitally important, you see, to have tools with the appropriate pitch for “x” voltage, otherwise it will resonate with the sin wave of the voltage and destroy itself in your hand. 

When he give you a baffled look, you offer to show him how to check the pitch. If he is foolish enough to actually hand you “x” tool, you turn around and throw (pitch) it as hard as you can (preferably into something troublesome to retrieve it from). Then you turn back around and calmly tell him “pitch seems fine to me.” Everyone gets a laugh, you get called a few names not appropriate for this forum, and then he usually gets help retrieving the tool or a new one if it gets lost. 
 

To be clear, this isn’t something you do on the first day. It’s usually done once you know the guy a little and have started to build a relationship with him. Typically around week two or three with the crew, when he is still green enough not to know better but seasoned enough to roll with the punches. 

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Hazing the new guy is pretty much human craftsman tradition. I imagine Uff the Neanderthal pulled something similar on Oog the youngster learning to hunt cave bear. Oil rig drill crews might send a new guy to find Kelly Bar or Stan Pipe. 

We didn't have any hazing on the state drill crews in our district. There was however one rather unpleasant fellow on the Aviation crew who I wouldn't put it past. There was a rush job on the Keystone Canyon highway project. It seemed the contractor's drill crew was WAY to cursory in their soils investigation. Keystone canyon was under construction and nobody trusted the data so aviation and the foundations crew were put on the job. 

Aviation investigations were rarely deeper than 5' below project grade so they  mostly drilled 15' holes and took grab samples off the auger. Foundations investigations required penetration data so at a minimum you have to drill with hollow stem auger so you can drive a split spoon sampler and note the end bearing data. How many blows with a 140lb. safety hammer and a 30" drop. 

Well, the "boB" on the aviation  crew resented advice from people who did this kind of drilling on a daily basis so he left the lock pins off the old style screw together hollow stem they were using and wasn't likely to put much anti-seize (pipe dope) on the  rod joints. Each of our crews had been assigned somebody as a helper extra help on a rush high pressure job was a good thing. There's lots somebody who doesn't know the job can do to take load from the crew. 

Well. . . Good old boB was being his usual rotten nasty self, blaming everything on their extra guy and of course making him try to break joints boB hadn't doped. We're set up on the bank coring to determine if that location was bedrock or a detached block and have time to look around while the barrel is advancing. Watching the other crew, set up on a plank deck over a casing and the antics of boB had numerous entertaining moments. At one point boB is yelling at new guy, shaking and pointing with his favorite 24" pipe wrench. New guy nods and takes boB's favorite 24" pipe wrench from him and tosses it in the river. 

The lead driller on that crew stopped boB in full screaming, slobbering, tantrum from throwing all the pipe wrenches and whatever else that was loose in the river. Finally had to make him go sit in the truck while he and the new guy finished drilling. Se sent one of our helpers down to help, call him, Tom and wrench tosser finish the day. boB caught a flight home, he was too worked up to work. 

I LOVE it when the person being hazed turns the tables but tossing boB's favorite wrench in the river has to be as good as it gets. Instant karmha is a good thing.

Frosty The Lucky.

 

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