Dor

Mara Brebu

Every time I think about my home country, my heart gets heavy with a special feeling – in Romanian, we call it “dor”. In short, it is a deep feeling of nostalgia and sadness that you get when you miss someone or something. However, I am not satisfied with this definition. No words can fully explain the deep meanings and nuances of this word, an essential part of Romanian culture.

As most Romanian words, dor is of Latin origin, having derived from “dolus”, meaning pain. While this connection might seem strange at first, it actually offers a great hint in unlocking the meaning of the word: the feeling described is so strong, that it can actually hurt, both in an emotional and physical way. Another, less common hypothesis about the origin of the word is that it comes from the Latin word for desire – “desiderium”. This would express dor as longing, focusing more on its cause than on its effect.

Most languages do not have a clear synonym for dor because longing is usually expressed as a verb and the feeling does not have an associated noun. Only few languages do have such a word, but it usually only partially matches the definition of dor: the German “Sehnsucht” expresses a longing, but this is for perfection, for an ideal life, rather than for something or someone loved; the Swedish “längtan” and the Galician “morrinha” also provide incomplete translations, only representing the feeling of missing someone. The only word whose meaning comes close to dor is the Portuguese “saudade”, which describes the melancholy or nostalgia associated with the memory of someone or something dear.

An integral part of Romanian culture, the word dor is commonly found in both folk and modern world. One evidence of this is the word’s frequent appearance in doina, a Romanian type of folkloric sung poetry expressing the unknown author’s deep feelings of sadness, love or dor. Doina points to the origin of dor being the custom of transhumance: the shepherd would spend months away from his family, which would create a strong feeling of longing for his home. This feeling was then generalised, and dor became a broader feeling, combining loneliness with love^[1], desire^[2], grief ^[3] or pain^[4].

Knowing that words change their meanings over time, we should also analyse the word in its modern context. Asking my friends what dor means to them, their answers were very different: “A feeling combining sadness and vague pain”, “Dor means home, it means loved ones and lots of tears”, “the nostalgia when thinking about what I miss from the past, be it people, things, feelings or moments”, “it is the home feeling I get from my loved ones”. Their answers show how broad the meaning of dor is. Holding almost every feeling associated with longing for someone or something, it expresses pain and love, happiness and sadness, melancholy and nostalgia. As Constantin Noica said, the word dor is an oxymoronic concept, a “whole without parts”, representing a messy fusion of feelings, rather than a natural combination of concepts.

For me, dor became even more special in the past year. Leaving home to study in a foreign country, surrounded by so many languages and cultures, except for the one I was used to, made me realise how much I loved Romania. I started missing my family, my friends, my home. Actually, I did not just miss them. Îmi era dor de toate astea. (I felt dor for all this.) I longed to be near them again, to taste my mum’s awful cooking, to hug my friends tight or to explore the landscapes I hold so dear. Every time I think about Romania, my chest tightens and a weird feeling descends down my spine. My eyes get a little wet, not enough to produce tears, but just enough to cloud my vision. I close my eyes and I picture my loved people and places, feeling how my skin forms goose bumps. For a few moments, I am back at home, and a peaceful, happy emotion fills me up. I open my eyes, feeling the pain and sadness of home sickness, but I am not brought down by them. Instead, they combine, creating a euphoric emotion, which makes me feel more alive than ever. This is what I define as dor.

Ultimately, I strongly believe dor is a unique word. Yes, other words with a similar meaning might exist, but no word can accurately translate it. Having developed with Romanian culture, dor represents a broad emotion, encompassing the feelings of any Romanian who, like me, longs for their home or loved ones. As Lucian Blaga said, “we could almost state that existence itself is, for the Romanian, dor”. Therefore, dor cannot exist without its cultural background, which makes an accurate translation of the word impossible.

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^[1] „Nici o boală nu e grea/ Ca dorul și dragostea” (No illness is as tough / As are dor and love)

^[2] “Mult mi-i dor de chipul drag;/Mult mi-i dor de chipul tău” (I long for the lovely face;/I long for your face)

^[3] “Nu ți-a fost frică de nor/ Să-mi urzești atâta dor/ Nu ți-a fost frică de stele/ Să-mi urzești atâta jele” (Were you not afraid of cloud/ That you gave me so much dor/ Were you not afraid of stars/ That you gave me so much grief)

^[4] “Să te-ajungă dor cumplit,/ Să lași lingura din blid,/ Să ieși afară plângând/ Și părul din cap smulgând” (May terrible longing come upon you,/ Dropping your spoon in your plate, / Going outside crying/ And pulling the hairs from your head)