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„Triumful României şi „noii regi ai festivalurilor – ZIARUL DE DUMINICĂ6 ianuarie 2012 Pe 29 decembrie Furia (foto 4) şi pe 30, Boogie (foto 5), cele două filme ale lui Radu Muntean, programate la Filmoteca din Madrid, încheie Zilele filmului românesc organizate

Antologie şi prefaţă de Dumitru Crudu Poezii de Angela Pânzaru, Iulian Fruntaşu, Ştefan Baştovoi, Mihail Vakulovski, Alexandru Vakulovski, Steliana Grama, Diana Iepure, Pavel Păduraru, Leo Hristov, Andrei Ungureanu, Ana Rapcea, Adrian Ciubotaru, Horia Hristov,

Furry spearsOn its ears The sharpest clawsInside its paws Greedy cat's eyesFlames in disguise Not a rustle, not a breezeAs a herd of deer freeze Hungry,Stretched bow lies in waitThe beastTakes out its clawsWith clenched jawsToo late! Poor deer!Falls without a soundDeath

In August when the sky fills with bullsAn eagle comes down in the neighborhood And lets me know from the first phone call that he's coming to see me An admirable pyromaniac haunted by firesAnd black serenity covering his feathersHe comes upset by the foreboding of

Animals have well-defined pigeonholes assigned by the traditional Romanian mindset. From wee to huge, all creatures are cast in distinct roles that any inhabitant of temperate geographical areas will recognize: hardworking as an ant (or bee), stupid as a goose, haughty as

See Gallery One would wonder why the ox is so preferred by most of the Romanian landscape painters at the turn of the century. One reason is a name, Barbizon. Both Nicolae Grigorescu and Ion Andreescu, the leaders of the generation, were configuring their artistic project

Tomis (the former name of the city of Constantza, Romania, situated on the shore of the Black Sea) is a 2550 year-old Greek city that has a historical past overlain with the constructions of the modern city. The name of the city comes from Constanta, an old quarter of the

When I was little, during Ceausescu's time, I was lucky to have a godmother in Germany whose mother, Oca, not only was an ideal nanny but she also used to send me wonderful things, which went far beyond a socialist child's imagination. That is how, for my sixth

Cuckoo. . . cu-ckoo!. . . in the garden,Cuckoo. . . cu-ckoo!. . . in the grove,All along the springtime seasonThe world of trees we always rove.  Tiny birds, with gray down feathers,And with our fearless flight,All the trees in our forestKnow and love and see us right.

1A Levantine Prince with a liking for hunting,was gliding through forests of darkness unsaidbreaking his trail through the thicket sans shuntingand playing an ivory flute as he said: 2'Come, pray, let us look for, in forests unfathomed,the blood-minded beast with the

A few years ago, on a day in September, I had been walking alone and aimlessly through the streets, seized by an unutterable wanderlust triggered by the infinite blue of the sky and the dizzying charm of autumn when, all of a sudden, at a crossroads, I came up against the

excerpt the shotguns in their slip covers, awaken from the sleepiness of the road smiling in anticipation at the show of the imminent hunt looking for strong sensations imagining the report of the rifle the bunch of metallic shots as an attribute of their being as an energy