Mircea Dinescu

Mircea Dinescu Poems

You catch that cat, shouted the Regent,
For it the Law can't be so linient,
The foreign cat which does not give a dime
The Balkan cat, illegal and supine
...

2.

As the potato flowers are in bloom
You take the road which ever us do part?
...

The visages of gods have long since withdrawn
to the labels on tins.
Only the hosts of elders still abide
to watch a made-up church through pouring rain
...

From the day I was born
I've been putting my whimpers
in the service of artists destroyed through starvation.
Had I been preserved in an alcohol cylinder
...

You're telling me the rats have nibbled the church down to its roots,
oh my sad mother,
but even so our faith is more a matter
of bread and wine.
...

Venerable Marx, if you lived in these lands
You would be quickly clean shaven and sent to a school for re-education.
The fact that even the cows from the East
Which grazed near the railway line
...

Mircea Dinescu Biography

Mircea Dinescu (born November 11, 1950) is a Romanian poet, journalist and editor. Early life and poetry He was born in Slobozia, the son of Ştefan Dinescu, a metalworker and Aurelia (born Badea). Dinescu studied at the Faculty of Journalism of the Ștefan Gheorghiu Academy, and was considered a gifted young poet during his youth, with several poetry volumes published. Dissidency In August 1988, Dinescu was invited by the USSR Union of Writers in the Soviet Union and on 25 August, he gave an interview to the Romanian section of the Voice of Russia. During the interview, he expressed his support for the Glasnost and Perestroika policies of the Soviet Union. After returning to Bucharest, he invited some friends (including Gabriel Liiceanu, Alexandru Paleologu and Andrei Pleșu) to write a protest against Ceaușescu's policies that were destroying Romanian culture and villages, but they failed to reach a consensus on the text and Dinescu decided to write his own protest. The members of the group were then visited by the Securitate, which argued that their actions were done under KGB orders as an attack against Romania, not against Ceaușescu. His book, Moartea citeşte ziarul ("Death is reading the newspaper") was turned down in 1988 by the Communist regime's censorship apparatus, and was then published in Amsterdam. On March 17, 1989 he was fired from România Literară literary magazine, as a result of an anti-totalitarian interview against President Nicolae Ceauşescu, which Dinescu had granted to the French newspaper Libération in December 1988. According to him, the reason for dismissal was "receiving visits from diplomats and journalists from Socialist and capitalist countries without permission". He was held under house arrest, with his house guarded 24/7, all visits banned; he was allowed to go outside just for shopping, but always flanked by two Securitate officers. Dinescu got support from seven writers (Geo Bogza, Ștefan Augustin Doinaș, Dan Hăulică, Octavian Paler, Andrei Pleșu, Alexandru Paleologu and Mihail Şora), who wrote a letter to Dumitru Radu Popescu, the President of the Writers' Union, asking him "to undo an injustice". Despite the original authors' secrecy (thy didn't publish it abroad), six of them (all, except for Geo Bogza, a veteran socialist) were forbidden to publishing. He got additional support from poet Doina Cornea, literary critics Alexandru Călinescu and Radu Enescu, and, in November 1989, a collective of 18 young academics and writers, who also wrote letters to Popescu.)

The Best Poem Of Mircea Dinescu

The Metaphysical Cat

You catch that cat, shouted the Regent,
For it the Law can't be so linient,
The foreign cat which does not give a dime
The Balkan cat, illegal and supine
Politically incorrect feline -
The hungry Balkan cat!
The metaphysics cat in search of trysts
Congenitally anti-communist
Consumerist who never tried alone
To strip a salmon fillet off the bone
Who never listened to the BBC
Who never went to Harrods for a spree.
How come that we inherited such cat?
Maybe from sermons of Adam Bhayat?
Or was it from some petty bourgeois gal
As surely not from the Neanderthal?
For Goodness' sake do something with that cat!
Do kill it with a stroke of cricket bat
The Government will surely not complain
So long as it will not affect its gain
The bad-luck, idle cat and poor achiever
Which purrs and purrs whilst you all slog like beaver
Its languid manner shows its true disdain…
You Celtic ancestors, in overalls,
Do come and rescue us, heed our calls!

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