On such a Krimean night

Krymska Cabin
I can almost see that wild Krim on the forest trail!

Jean, Jean! What a lovely night, I can almost see that wild Krim on the forest trail!

Is he like the Manné Rock, ever falling, tumbling? Or is he of the deep, deep mountain? I have seen him, Jean. I saw him! You need only count to three, and with every step a statement is stated, yet Krim is never sated! He is eating the world, Jean … Gnaws on our fundament, our testament.

East and West, all-encompassing! Such compassion! Tell not my brother of my dreams. Oh, Krim, Allfather of the Allforest …

Yours always,
Hermione Lynn Ploppel

Picture of the Transylvanian Circumvolution

This picture was sent to us by Colin Rodgers from Edinburgh. It shows the mythical symbol of the Transylvanian Circumvolution, a symbol strongly connected to the mysterious Krim-Jacob algorithm.

The picture is taken near the top of Arthur’s seat, a hill near central Edinburgh. This picture will indeed confirm a possible Krim-Jacobian presence in Scotland and Great Britain, and we will of course continue our investigation and  research in this field. We will also thank Colin for his contribution, help from the public makes our research much easier.

Adrŷan Nerich – Historian –  Targu Mures Historical Society

Where I see a tall mast in the woods…


Nerich proposed the death of my father
Firefighters and prayer against the enemy;
My spirit is pleased,
My arm is strong

I like the first of many storms
This is a charming valley, you fence me in
Exciting places to see
Spring Valley, shine in my mind

Ground and the celebratory mood
Beautiful nature of culture and 13
I saw the wagonwheel could barely walk
Now, I flew from the water.

He then congratulated his country
His sword is the vagina.
Blow! Therefore, they sing, I sing,
A coward, who has the sword.

Fire and sword, never come into contact;
It seems that everything must grow fierce!
Who really believe in birth?
When the bees are seven; permanent gene

Crimean poem translated on behalf of the Targu Mures Historical Society by Douglas Rogers

Eternal Flame of Sudak – the Mongolian Retreat

graverobber of qirim

“He is just and a person of letters. I regret ever to have upset him. We return now to our steppes. He is just.”

– Gengis Khan, 1222

The Mongolian hordes seemed unstoppable. Yet in the year 1222, the great campaign reached a sudden and unforseen end. The Warlord, Gengis Khan, had just before this reached the Crimean peninsula. The locals of these lands tell a tale that historians never have accepted: Gengis Khan was intercepted by a man draped in red in the city of Sudak. His royal guards dared not strike him down, as his being seemed ethereal, as if divine. He spoke to the Khan, who dropped his blade and shed a single tear.

Krim Fundamentals – Insomnia and insanity

weeping for it is

Stepping through a door and walking the land, our subject finds himself for the first time in his life making new footprints rather than reinforcing those of old. Seeds sprout from blood and the mind is in turmoil, for it has not yet accomplished that which will give the only peace of mind for a seeker.

He walks the great ocean and does not sleep..

As written by the 16th-century scholar Tän Anghér in his last work: “Lord Krïm, Wanderer, Seeker”.

Krim Fundamentals – Guilt and Prosperity

thou shalt not

Consider for a moment what might drive a man from his birthplace. Cast then all these thoughts aside, for this is no ordinary tale of migration by need or wish. Were someone ever destined to take on a new name and then a new life, it must have been him.

And at that he took to the door and a bird grew wings of gold…

As written by the 16th-century scholar Tän Anghér in his last work: “Lord Krïm, Wanderer, Seeker”.

Triangle of Conflict, Source of Despair: Avtonomna Respublika Krym

From the city of Qırım, now Staryi Krym, hails a most ancient legend. It is that of the man draped in Red, with a beard of Silver, a heart of Gold and soul eternally Black. Veiled by abstract mystery, he is a man of no accepted origin. His very existence has through long, dark years been disputed by scholars. Yet the people believe – they must, and in our very town of Targu Mures the old still whisper  and cry his many names. Krim Jacob, Jacobi Krimmer, Crimea Jacobius, Krim Roşu. It is by the latter we shall call him in this documentation of our journey; “In search of Krim Roşu”.