UE

A pessimist, faultfinding outlook on the phenomenon would classify the explosion of eroticism as a literary evil, on the grounds of, let's say, the obsession that does not free, but condemns to imprisonment: an imprisonment with respect to the requirement of total expression,

The air is bracing where your high breasts rise. Around their peaks I breathe with greater ease. Yet I descend, beloved, by degrees,Cheap bastard that I am, towards your thighs.  Your carnal hip is naked and asleep,So lily-like it makes my halo blush. I long to kiss it,

Delight – the bum I cherish, once more, as in the past,You are proffering to me like some delicious treat. As you raise up your skirt high, and lean into the street, Out of the open window, while munching on a crust. And since you're sort of bashful at what I'm

It is amazing how many children are begotten from the sentimental exultation that one or the other of their parents feel for a third person, another than the partner in the respective action, irrespective if the person in question be a man or a woman. Sometimes this third

excerpts 155th of March 1946I wasn't planning on writing to you. I thought I was going to write Physics papers. But the paper was white and I kept thinking about you. I was thinking of you and I felt happy. This flatters me. And saddens me at the same time. I thought

Chapter VIII: The party on the 24th of August. Gaby and the other Sandu. Dyed. Pusha and Hippodrome. Gaby and the evil. The movie on TV. Stupid jokes. On the phone with Pusha. A letter. Fight and reconciliation with HippoLet's go back to 1963, a time in which Monica

excerpt He continued to walk towards the former Senate Square, his hand pressed against his jaw, still paralyzed from the aggression of the figurant, and the bizarre appearance of his General in that particular place. One blow after another. It was too much… It was indeed

Every summer the city on the hill is drowned in green, which explodes in the church park, at the Citadel and at the Cabin and the Grove, while the green willows of the River girdle the city. The summer of fir trees and willows flaps big, unseen wings in a fervor of lofty

excerpt Paul Dunca found himself asking not what has become of the baron, which would have been an equally ludicrous question, but at least still possible at the time, but:How is the baron?The girl burst into a loud laughter and that was her only answer, and Paul Dunca understood

excerpt  I wasn't wrong. In every woman, more than in a man, lies a history. But I have never in my life heard a shorter one, although the events in it could very well be enough for someone, their entire life. Could Nutzi have felt that I wasn't able to listen

excerpt They wandered about the villages around Bucharest, the old man leading the way, Paraschiv right behind him. They went to Bolintin, to Catzelu, eager for prey. They always went there on market days when the peasants were there, as these were the most likely victims

If we were to maintain that the erotic language as an independent writing mode has at present been obliterated from Romanian literature, we would, perhaps, make a serious overstatement, but not lie entirely: it might seem peculiar, but this European literature, which is