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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 image A widely-spread carnivorous mammal, the fox has been drawn to the attention of the people ever since early Antiquity, remaining throughout the ages the most steadfast symbol of slyness, cunningness, cruelty and cynicism. Totemic animals from one region in the

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

Marble statue, slightly purplish. The statue is a true masterpiece, a unique piece, a sort of Venus of Milo of the sculptures representing animals, especially that to this day, there has not been found anything like it anywhere else. The statue represents a fantastic animal

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.

While flying way above, a dove has fallen on a rock And he is just a chick, poor him, and he can barely fly!. . .  Big waves are coming, hit the rock and he is so afraid. . . When drops of water splash his down, he's getting soaking wet.  Sad as he is, he hides his

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

Wooden roe deer deeply bellowsas the forest deeply sighs,whispy tree limbs wringing windwiseas the roe deer deeply criesno wise will his heart-felt bellowsmake me part from inner lies.  Yon the loner roe deer loweth,Echo carrieth his lament,bugle rumor seems his torment;lonely

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