N Nichita Stanescu

Nichita Stanescu

24 şiir · 1933 —

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Born in 1933, Romanian poet and essay writer Nichita Stanescu grew up under the influence of World War II and the subsequent rise of communism across the Easter Block. Probably more famous in his own country than the rest of the world, never the less Stanescu remains one of the more important figures of literature in the 20th Century. Stanescu spent most of his time living under conditions of abject poverty because of the communist regime. When he wrote his famous 11 Elegies in 1965 the poems were dictated in a flat in Bucharest where the floor was simply frozen ground. Despite living in a time that did not welcome freedom of thought, he continued to produce poetry that spoke to the core of human existence. Stanescu went to high school in Bucharest and studied literature at the University of Bucharest, graduating in 1957. He was married three times, none of which were successful, the first being in 1952 to Magdalena Petrescu. His first verses were published in the literary magazine Tribuna and he had written three collections, including A Vision of Feelings in 1964, before he completed his ground breaking work 11 Elegies in 1965. Stanescu believed there were two types of poet, the ones who wrote about ideas and those who only saw the world as a group of sentiments. Stanescu wanted to be a writer of ideas and 11 Elegies was the first work that explored issues such as our role in the universe, and the notion of consciousness and wilfulness in respect of creativity. Publication of the Elegies marked a period of high productivity and between 1965 and 1971 he published a collection each year including Wheel With a Single Spoke and Other Poems. Despite living in a time when Ceauşescu’s hold on the country was all encompassing, Stanescu was more of a metaphysical poet than a political one, which you may be why he didn’t attract the government’s attention in the way that other artists did. A conversational tone that was used to approach deep questions about human existence mark him as one of the greatest poets to come out of Romania in the last 100 years and his works have now been translated into many languages. He sees people as just one of the many elements of the universe and refers often to the Greek astronomer and mathematician Ptolemy who believed the entirety of existence revolved around our small planet. Stanescu won a number of awards over his lifetime, including the prestigious Herder Award in 1975 and, after his death, he was elected to the Romanian Academy. His later works turn to the conundrum of death and poems like his Self-Portrait present the idea of our mortality as the building block that makes up the present. In 1982 he wrote Crying Bones and Knots and Marks but by 1983 he had contracted hepatitis and died, at the age of 50, in his home city of Bucharest.

Nichita Stanescu şiirleri

Arama yardımı

As though the superior knife had cut my clouds from the mountain tops does my immense and headless body hurl itself about, leaving its fugitive head in the sky.…

This sea is covered with adolescents learning to walk on waves, upright, sometimes resting their arms on the currents, sometimes gripping a stiff beam of sunlight.…

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İngilizce

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The young soldiers have taken their seats in the window, exactly as found, shot in their foreheads - to be seen, they were seated in the shop window, true to their ultimate gesture…

İngilizce

Black snow was falling. The tree line shone when I turned to see - I had wondered long and silent, alone, trailing memory behind me.…

İngilizce

Distance is the cog wheel on the haunted axle of my hearing, grinding fine the deadened mind of that unborn god…

Green rings around the eyes, this grass in vibrant motion arcs tenderly about you, at a distance- you summon it, then fling it round, broken by your laugh of youth and innocence.…

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İngilizce

Be aware that I can kill, that I can crush with my heel the sweet head of the peaceful rising star, because of this I've turned to painting houses!…

İngilizce

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Silence strikes the tree trunks, upon itself retracing, turns to distance, turns to sand. I have turned my only face toward the sun, my shoulders scatter leaves in this racing.…

İngilizce

Poetry is the weeping eye it is the weeping shoulder the weeping eye of the shoulder it is the weeping hand…

The stones open an eye of stone, the bones open an eye of bone. Each dog has a snout in place of its eyes, and barks from three snouts, generously.…

İngilizce

Only my life will die for me, in truth, sometime. Only the grass knows the taste of the earth. In truth, only my blood misses…

İngilizce

I was so very aware that the afternoon was dying in the domes, and all around me sounds froze, turned to winding pillars.…

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