Reviste

Apel la Fondane, apelul lui Fondane A vorbi despre Fundoianu- Fondane, a reflecta asupra textelor sale – dar şi asupra destinului său – a organiza colocvii sau a-i consacra numere speciale de revistă – sunt tot atâtea acţiuni care n-au nevoie de pretextul unei

Cahiers roumains d'études littéraires et culturelles Tema: Centenaire Mircea Eliade (1907-2007). Mircea Eliade - Le défi de l'histoire Din cuprins: Contextes - texte de Marta Petreu, Liviu Antonesei, Cornel Ungureanu, Liviu Bordaş Rencontres - texte

Tema: Du corps Din cuprins: Le corps dans la littérature, le corps de la littérature - texte de Gheorghe Crăciun, Simona Drăgan, Caius Dobrescu, Romulus Bucur, Rodica Ilie, Alexandru Muşina, Ariane Luthi Auteurs français: Marie-Christine Desmaret, Ioan Pop-Curseu,

Cahiers roumains d'études littéraires et culturelles Tema: Le destin d'Emile Cioran Din cuprins: Emile Cioran (1911-1995). Dix ans apres sa mort - texte de Fernando Savater, Constantin Zaharia, Ion Dur, Ion Vartic, Mihaela Genţiana Stănişor, Marta Petreu,

Institutul Cultural Român„Mihai Eminescu” de la Chişinău sprijină financiar apariția a zece publicații culturale în limba română din Republica Moldova, în urma concursului desfășurat în perioada mai – iunie 2023. Consecvent tradiţiei sale de a susţine

Numărul 112 / iarna 2019 al revistei Lettre Internationale are în Sumar: RETROSPECTIVE / PERSPECTIVE Pierre Grosser –1989 sau sensul istoriei . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Marianne Belis – Mai există oare dulcea Franță? . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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

excerpt I blindfolded the birdsWith a veil of cloudsAnd I told them to catch meAnd the birds caught meWith a song.  . . .  Translated by Adrian Solomon by Marin Sorescu (1931-1996)

My insects have devoured all the peopleAnd on the deserted streets of the city They are parading the spiders and the locusts Are the most constantine They've got perfect serums in wiresAnd are pricking the statue of the magical brother In their hands they carry the

I had entered the forest With other forests on my shoulders My knees were shiningAnd maybe their love was everything Then I told the birds You birdsLet us play phoenixes for whomIn our grey cutaways Above us the sun shook its maneThen night fell in my mouth Translated

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