Mărțișor is the old folk name for March in the Romanian language, and
literally means "little March".
When my nephew was a little boy, he went with
his father to buy Martisor for all the girls and women he knew. When they got
close to a stand, my nephew chose the Martisor for me. ‘But it’s golden, so I
don’t think she will like it’, his father said. ‘No, she likes it’, replied my
nephew.
And
so I did. And I have ever since. It seems to me to be the everlasting
Martisor from him.
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