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his last poem was referring to the relation with the other great Romanian poets, especially Mihai Eminescu.


==Volumes==
==Volumes==

Revision as of 12:04, 20 December 2006

Nichita Stănescu (born Nichita Hristea Stănescu) (March 31 1933, PloieştiDecember 13 1983, Bucharest) was a Romanian poet and essayist. He is the most acclaimed contemporary Romanian language poet, beloved by the public and generally held in esteem by literary critics.

Biography

Stănescu's father was Nicolae H. Stănescu (1908-1982). His mother, Tatiana Cereaciuchin, was Russian (originally from Voronezh, she had fled Russia and married in 1931). Stănescu commented on his mother's origins on several occasions ("[I was given life] by a Romanian peasant and a Russian woman"). Nichita Stănescu finished high school in Ploieşti, then went on to study Romanian language and literature in Bucharest, graduating in 1957. He made his literary debut in the Tribuna literary magazine.

Stănescu married Magdalena Petrescu in 1952, but the couple separated a year later. In 1962 he married Doina Ciurea. In 1982 he married Todoriţa "Dora" Tărîţa.

For much of his career, Stănescu was a contributor to and editor of Gazeta Literară, România Literară and Luceafărul.

His editorial debut was the poetry book Sensul iubirii ("The Aim of Love"), which appeared under the Luceafărul selection, in 1960. The last volume of poetry published in his lifetime was Noduri şi semne ("Knots and Signs"), published in 1982. He died of hepatitis.

Nichita Stănescu received numerous poetry awards, of which the most important was the Herder Prize (1975) as well as a Nobel Prize nomination.

Unfortunately, he died relatively young, leaving behind a legendary name and some of the most important poetry in post-war Romanian literature, such as:

After the fall of the Iron Curtain, he was elected post-mortem member of the Romanian Academy.

Quotes

  • "The only real things which we take with us in the end are our own feelings, our loves, our hates and adversities. I ask myself: at the end of life, what will we leave outside? I suppose we can leave some feelings, less of hate, some of passion, but... especially of love."
  • An animal comes
and eats a boulder.
Then a barking dog comes,
which eats a rock.
Then a sort of nothing comes,
which eats sand
Then I come and I eat this echo.
Echo of what?
Echo of “don't know what”

Volumes

Posthumous volumes

External links