Poetry Books (hardcover)



Ochiul străinului  - poezie  (Stranger’s Eye - poetry)

DU STYLE Publishing House, Bucharest, 1996 



The Award of The Romanian Writers Union (Dobrogea branch), 1996
The book’s preface was written
by ANA BLANDIANA, 
a famous Romanian poetess – member of „Stephane Mallarme“ Poetry Academy, member of The European Poetry Academy and member of The World Poetry Academy.

Alaturi de alti poeti foarte tineri – dar poate intr-o masura mai mare pentru ca, in cazul ei, cuvantului nerabdator i se adauga un fel de exaltare a fragilitatii fiintei – Rhea Cristina este pentru mine semnul, dovada, ca roata poeziei se invarte netulburata de cataclismele naturii sau ale istoriei, ca totul merge inainte intr-un fel miraculous, fascinant, care ascunde in sine marele secret al tuturor noilor lumi: acela ca se nasc din cuvant.
Cuvintele tinerei poete sunt atat de puternice si de elastice incat dau sentimentul ca o minima atingere sau numai o miscare a aerului, pot sa le faca sa sara pana in tavan, ingradirile si obstacolele nefiind decat tot atatea prilejuri de lansare pentru minunatul elan continut de fiecare atom de poezie.
Castigatoare pana acum a mai multe premii regionale de poezie, Rhea Cristina paseste prin acest volum pe scena mare a poeziei. Salut cu prietenie aparitia acestui fermecator nume nou care va deveni, nu ma indoiesc, pur si simplu un nume.
ANA BLANDIANA

The words of the young poetess are so strong and flexible that they give us the feeling that only a mere touch or only a movement of the air can made them to bound up to the ceiling, restrictions and obstacles being only so many occasions of launching for the great enthusiasm of each poetry atom. I friendly salute the appearance of this charming new name that has undoubtedly become purely a name.” 
ANA BLANDIANA

and

IRINA MAVRODIN, 
a famous Romanian essayist and translator (honoured with the title of „Chevalier des arts et des letters“, granted by the French state).

Poezia Rheei Cristina care, foarte tanara fiind, si-a gasit o scriitura proprie inca de la primul sau volum, “Ochiul străinului“, care a obţinut Premiul Uniunii Scriitorilor (filiala Dobrogea) in 1996, construieste un univers nou, al sfasierii, al rupturii ce se refac mereu intr-un tot, al violentei convertite intruna in calm si repaos, miscare biunivoca, circulara.
Bucuria pe care mi-a produs-o citirea versurilor ei si increderea pe care o am in destinul lor sunt insotite de sentimentul fericit al perpetuarii poeziei romane prin tineri poeti inzestrati cu asemenea har.
IRINA MAVRODIN


„The happiness I felt when I read her poetry and the trust that I have in its destiny are accompanied by the happy feeling of the perpetuation of the Romanian poetry through young poets endowed who are gifted with such talent.”

IRINA MAVRODIN


 




Unde dragostea si moartea nu exista/ Where Love and Death Do Not Exist/ Ou l’amour et la mort n’existent pas”, 
poezie (poetry book)

Muzeul Literaturii Romane Publishing House, Bucharest, 2006
Copyright 2006 Rhea Cristina



Trilingual edition in Romanian, English and French.
Translation by Georgia Puckett, Cambridge University (georgiapuckett@yahoo.co.uk).
Traduction par Mihaela Şinca, CIRNEA Paris (mihaelasinca@translation.ro).
The illustration from the first cover is a reproduction of  "The Last Supper", a painting by Nicu Darastean  (www.darastean.com).
The book’s preface was written by Ana Blandiana (a famous Romanian poetess – member of „Stephane Mallarme“ Poetry Academy, member of The European Poetry Academy and member of The World Poetry Academy) and Irina Mavrodin, a famous Romanian essayist and translator (honoured with the title of „Chevalier des arts et des letters“, granted by the French state).
Copyright 2006 Rhea Cristina




The book’s preface was written
by ANA BLANDIANA, 
a famous Romanian poetess – member of „Stephane Mallarme“ Poetry Academy, member of The European Poetry Academy and member of The World Poetry Academy

„Cu o mișcare dramatică, în stare să o singularizeze nu numai în raport cu ceilalți, ci și în raport cu propria sa evoluție, Rhea Cristina își pune poezia sub semnul Crucii ca simbol al suferinței, nu al mântuirii.
Poezia nu mai este astfel un mod de a supraviețui, ci unul de a muri fără încetare, vers cu vers, până când nu mai poți înceta să mori, iar nemurirea nu mai este decât o moarte care nu se mai termină.
Unde dragostea și moartea nu există este o carte intensă, de maturitate.“
ANA BLANDIANA

“Rhea Cristina places her poems under the sign of the Cross as a symbol of suffering but not of salvation, with a dramatic movement able to make her unique not only relation to others but also to her own evolution. The poetry is not a way of surviving anymore, but of unceasingly dying, line by line, until you cannot stop dying and the immortality is anything else but an endless death.
Where Love and Death Do Not Exist is a profound book, of maturity.“
ANA BLANDIANA


„Emporté par un souffle dramatique, en mesure de la singulariser non seulement par rapport aux autres, mais aussi par rapport à sa propre évolution, Rhea Cristina place sa poésie sous le signe de la Croix, comme symbole de la souffrance et non pas de la rédemption.
Ainsi la poésie n’est plus une façon de survivre, mais une manière de mourir sans cesse, vers après vers, jusqu’au point où on ne peut plus s’empêcher de mourir et l’immortalité n’est qu’une mort sans fin.
Où l’amour et la mort n’existent pas est un livre profond, de maturité.”
ANA BLANDIANA


and


IRINA MAVRODIN, 
a famous Romanian essayist and translator (honoured with the title of „Chevalier des arts et des letters“, granted by the French state).




“Rhea Cristina este o poetă care îşi  urmează drumul ei – cu fidelitate, consecvenţă faţă de propriile-i voci interioare –, dincolo de mode şi scandaluri mediatice. Prima sa carte, “Ochiul străinului“, care a obţinut Premiul Uniunii Scriitorilor (filiala Constanţa) in 1996, ne  punea în faţa unei poezii care îşi găsise structura: o poezie ca metaforă globală, care nu se lăsa fascinată de pe cât de spectaculoasele pe atât de exterioarele “figuri de stil“ la care – fie că le adoptă cu semn pozitiv sau negativ, ca “mărci“ poetice sau antipoetice – aproape fiecare tânăr poet aspiră.
Cu volumul Unde dragostea și moartea nu există, Rhea Cristina face încă  un pas foarte important pentru destinul ei de poetă. Logica este cea a primei structurări, cea din volumul anterior – poemul ca metaforă globală –, dar dusă mai departe, devenită mai evidentă, epurată de elemente heterogene. În ciuda titlului cărţii – prin care se obţine un efect oximoronic de mare intensitate –, suntem în faţa unor splendide poeme despre dragoste şi moarte, poeme metafizice care îşi trag spunerea din lumea cea mai concretă, cea mai fizică, ca orice mare şi adevărată poezie.” 
IRINA MAVRODIN
 

“Rhea Cristina is a poet who follows her own way – she faithfully remains devoted to her inner voices – beyond fashion trends and media scandals. Her first book, “The Eye of the Stranger”, which scooped the Romanian Writers’ Union’s Award (at Dobrogea Branch) in 1996, placed the reader in front of a type of poetry that had found its own structure: the poem as a global metaphor that did not get fascinated by the more spectacular, the more superficial “poetic imagery”– either embracing it with the positive or negative sign, as poetic or antipoetic “norms” - which almost any young poet would dream of.
With her volume “Where Love and Death Do Not Exist”, Rhea Cristina takes another important step in her poetic destiny. The logic belongs to the first structuring from her previous volume of poems – the poem as a global metaphor – but it is pushed further, becoming more obvious, cleared by heterogeneous elements.
Despite the book’s title – whose oxymoron creates an effect of great intensity –, we are face to face with splendid poems about love and death, metaphysical poems, which pull their words from the most physical, the most mundane world as any true and great poetry.”
IRINA MAVRODIN


„Rhea Cristina est une poétesse qui poursuit son chemin faisant preuve de fidélité et de constance dans l’écoute de sa voix intérieure –, au-delà des modes et des scandales médiatiques. Son premier livre, L’œil de l’étranger, qui a gagné le Prix de l’Union de Roumanie des Ecrivains de Roumanie (filiale de Dobrogea) en 1996, nous mettait face à une poésie qui avait trouvé sa structure: une poésie comme métaphore globale, qui ne se laisse pas fascinée par les figures de style autant spectaculaires qu’extérieures auquel presque chaque jeune poète fait appel – à signe positif ou négatif, comme „marques” poétiques ou antipoétiques.
Par son livre Où l’amour et la mort n’existent pas, Rhea Cristina fait un autre pas très important pour son destin poétique. La logique est celle de la première structuration, celle du livre précédent – le poème comme métaphore globale –, mais elle est poussée plus loin, devenue plus visible, purifiée de tous les éléments hétérogènes. Eu dépit du titre de ce livre – par lequel on obtient un effet intense d’oxymoron –, nous sommes devant des splendides poèmes d’amour et de mort, poèmes métaphysiques qui alimentent leur discours du monde le plus concret, le plus physique, comme toute poésie valeureuse et véritable.” 
IRINA MAVRODIN


 

"Very impressed by Rhea Cristina’s poetry, the famous Romanian choreographer Ioan Tugearu (from the National Romanian Opera) intends to stage a Romanian ballet performance drawn upon her poetry volume „Where Love and Death Do Not Exist”.


These are the covers of Rhea Cristina’s poetry book in the German version:

RHEA CRISTINA 
„Wo es Liebe und Tod nicht gibt“
GEDICHTE
VERLAG MUZEUL LITERATURII ROMANE, 2006
BUKAREST, RUMÄNIEN

„Mit einem dramatischen Schwung, der sie nicht nur im Verhältnis mit den anderen, sondern auch mit ihrer Entwicklung selbst vereinzeln wird, Rhea Cristina stellt ihre Lyrik unter das Zeichen des Kreuzes als Symbol des Leidens und nicht der Rettung.
Die Lyrik ist auf diese Weise keine Art des Überlebens mehr, sie wird zu einem ewigen Sterben, Verse mit Verse, bis man zu sterben nicht mehr aufhören kann. Die Unsterblichkeit wird also nichts anderes als ein unendlicher Tod. 
Unde dragostea si moartea nu exista (Wo es Liebe und Tod nicht gibt) ist ein gewichichtiges Buch der Reife.“

ANA BLANDIANA
 
“Rhea Cristina ist eine Dichterin, die jenseits von Trends und Medienskandalen ihren Weg geht – treu, konsequent mit ihren eigenen innerlichen Stimmen. Ihr erster Band, Ochiul strainului (Das Auge des Fremders), der 1996 mit dem Preis des Schrifstellerverbandes (Zweigstelle Dobrogea) ausgezeichnet wurde, brachte den Lesern eine Lyrik, die ihre Struktur bereits gefunden hatte: die Lyrik als globale Metapher, keinesfalls fasziniert von den spektakulären aber im gleichen Massen auch oberflächigen “stilistischen Mitteln” – sei es wenn sie, im positiven oder im negativen Sinne, als lyrische „Kennzeichen” aufgenommen werden – , nach welchen fast alle junge Dichter streben.
Mit dem Band Unde dragostea si moartea nu exista (Wo es Liebe und Tod nicht gibt), Rhea Cristina macht einen weiteren Schritt, der sich bedeutend für ihr Schicksal als Dichterin erweist. Die Logik der ersten Strukturierung des vorigen Bandes taucht wieder auf – das Gedicht als globale Metapher –, weiter geführt wird sie jedoch offensichtlicher, geklärt von heterogenen Elementen. 
Trotz des Titels des vorliegenden Bandes – der eine oxymoronische Auswirkung hoher Intensität ergibt –, sehen wir uns mit glänzenden Gedichten von Liebe und Tod konfrontiert, mit metaphysischen Gedichten, die sich aus der konkretesten, äußerst physischen Welt nähren, wie eigentlich die großartige und wahre Poesie.”
IRINA MAVRODIN


 From Mass Media


ZIARUL METROPOLIS (METROPOLIS NEWSPAPER)





Radiodifuziunea Română (ROMANIAN BROADCASTING)
Le Revue Litteraire






Some poetries of my poetry book "WHERE LOVE AND DEATH DO NOT EXIST " 
(in Romanian, English and French):



I.                   Two

II.                Where Love and Death Do Not Exist
III.             I am
IV.              The Birth
V.                 Never
VI.              Half
VII.           Beyond



I. 
Doi
Acesta-i sentimentul curat, fara culoare.
Aceasta-i crucea mea, infipta in trupul tanar, 
necunoscut
O parte vrea sa moara, o parte sa traiasca.
Ca niste lupi infometati de flacari.
Suntem doi intr-unul, aproape nemiscati.
Daca respiram prea adanc, auzim durerile celuilalt.
Carei Cruci sa ma supun?
Doi morti in lacrimi vor 
vorbi in curand.
Doi inveseliti de propria lor inima 
vand Lumina noptii 
ranii mele nestiute.


Two
This is the clean washed-out feeling.
This is my cross stabbed in the young 
unknown body.
One part wants to die, the other wants to live.
Like ravenous wolves for the flames.
We are two in one almost quiescent.
If we breathe too deeply, we can hear 
each other's pains.
To which Cross shall I obey?
Two dead people in tears will 
speak soon.
Two people cheered up by their own heart
are selling the Light of the night
to my unknown wound.


Deux
Voilà le sentiment immaculé, sans couleur.
Voilà ma Croix, perçant le corps jeune, inconnu.
Une partie veut mourir, l’autre veut vivre.
Comme des loups affamés de flammes.
Nous sommes deux êtres confondus,
presque immobiles.
Une respiration trop profonde et l’un peut toucher 
la blessure de l’autre.
A quelle croix dois-je me soumettre?
Deux morts en larmes
prochainement parleront.
Deux agaillardis de leur propre cœur
vendent la Lumière de la nuit
à ma blessure inconnue.

II.
Unde dragostea si moartea nu exista
Unde dragostea si moartea nu exista 
ma aflu eu.
Cu inima supusa, 
asteptandu-l pe Dumnezeu.
Iubind nedurerosul inteles al prapastiei.
Cautand a nu fi 
de o parte si de cealalta in acelasi timp.
Flacarile vorbesc Crucii din mine
in lipsa mea. 
Ma cheama la ospat, la propriul meu ospat.
Cand va inceta Sentimentul in care m-am nascut,
va incepe
o durere care
nu va putea fi
exprimata.


Where Love and Death Do Not Exist
Where love and death do not exist
there I am.
Heartily obeyed,
waiting for God.
Loving the painless sense of the chasm. 
Trying not to be 
on one side or the other at the same time.
The flames are speaking to the inner Cross
in my absence.
They are calling me to the feast, to my own feast.
When the Feeling that I was born in 
fades away
an ineffable pain 
will begin.


Où l’amour et la mort n’existent pas
Où l’amour et la mort n’existent pas
c’est moi.
L’âme assujettie, 
attendant Dieu.
Aimant le sens délivré de souffrance de l’abîme.
Cherchant à ne pas être
d’un côté et de l’autre en même temps.
Les flammes parlent à la Croix cachée dans mon âme en mon absence.
Elles m’invitent au festin, à mon propre festin.
Quand le Sentiment dans lequel je suis née cessera d’être,
une douleur
commencera,
une douleur
sans mots.

III.
Sunt
Sunt
cel mai trist sentiment ca sunt.
Imi iubesc pana la disperare
moartea care 
ma lasa sa traiesc.


I am
I am
the most sorrowful feeling that I am.
I desperately love
the death that
lets me live.


Je suis
Je suis
le plus triste sentiment que je suis.
J’aime jusqu’au désespoir
ma mort qui
me laisse vivre.

IV.
Nasterea
(h)rana
celulei imi vorbeste
in zilele si noptile
care vin
dupa tine.
Aproape unul de
celalalt,
simturile sangelui se dezvolta 
fosnind salbatic.
Invatam nasterea.


The Birth
the feeding wound
of the cell talks to me
in the days and nights 
coming
after you.
Close one to
the other,
the senses of our blood arouse
savagely rustling.
We learn the birth.


La naissance
la blessure nourrissante
de la cellule me parle
pendant les jours et les nuits
qui arrivent
après toi.
Près l’un de
l’autre,
les sens du sang s’élèvent
en frémissant sauvagement.
Nous apprenons la naissance.

V.
Niciodata
Zilnic iti pot spune, iubite,
tulburatoare e toamna.
Niciodata de ce
tu tresari in bataia 
Clipei.


Never
Every day I can tell you, my love,
the autumn is thrilling.
Never why
you startle by 
the Moment’s ticking.


Jamais
Tous les jours je peux te dire, mon amour,
Comme il est troublant l’automne.
Pourquoi tu ne frémis jamais
au battement
de l’Instant.

VI.
Jumatate
Jumatate de moarte, jumatate de dragoste. 
Neiubitul Sangele tau invata ruga de mine.
Nu mi-ai spus niciodata 
ca nu-ti plac radacinile
invelite in zapada in
serile cand privesti peste
umarul meu
reprosandu-ti
ca mi-e frig.


Half
Half of death, half of love.
Untouched by the lust, your blood is learning 
the prayer of me.
You have never told me
your hate of the roots
covered in the snow
in the evenings when you glance
at my shoulders
blaming yourself
for my shivering.


Partage
Une partie de mort, une partie d’amour.
Orphelin d’amour ton Sang t’apprend la prière de moi.
Tu ne m’as jamais dit
comme tu n’aimais pas les racines
couvertes par la neige 
les soirs  quand tu regardais au-delà 
de mon épaule
en te reprochant
que j’ai froid.

VII.
Dincolo
Dincolo de mine
am mers unde orbii
freamata Cerul.
Tipatul mortii a crescut salbatic
adapandu-se tulbure din fantani.
Am implorat pamantul sa-l 
ocroteasca de Crucea ce se 
inalta in mine disperandu-l.
Orbii plang nestiut. Cerul suspina mai usor. M-acopar seara cu mine. Moartea ca un candelabru deasupra-mi vegheaza. Oamenii mei vor lasa ferestrele mari, 
din Lumina in 
teama de noi. Ochiul intors ma invata.Vad Cerul aprinzandu-se crud. 
Nastere din nasterea mea.
Dumnezeu din
Dumnezeu adevarat.
Apar si ma supun.


Beyond
Beyond me
I’ve been there where blind people
are stirring up the Heavens.
The shriekl of death has savagely grown
murkily draining the wells.
I begged the earth to
protect it from the Cross, which
was ascending in me, driving it mad.
The blind people are weeping unseen. The Heavens are sighing softer. At dusk
I cover myself with myself. The death is keeping its eye on me like a chandelier above. My people will
let the big windows opened from the Light, in
our hidden fear. The eye turned backwards is teaching me. I can see the Heavens
getting cruelly lit.
Birth from my birth. God from the true God.
I defend and I obey.


Au-delà
Au-delà de moi
je suis allée là où les aveugles
frémissent le Ciel.
Le cri de la mort a augmenté sauvagement
en s’abreuvant troublant des fontaines. 
J’ai imploré la terre de le
protéger contre la Croix qui
s’élevait en moi pour son désespoir.
Les aveugles pleurent inconnus. Le Ciel soupire plus doucement. Le soir
Je couvre mon corps à ma peau. La mort comme
un candélabre au-dessus 
me veille. Mes gens laisseront les fenêtres grandes, 
de la Lumière vers
la peur de nous. L’œil tourné m’apprend. Je vois
le Ciel 
en s’allumant cruellement.
Naissance de ma naissance. Dieu de Dieu vrai.
Je défends et je me soumets.



Launching poetry book -- Bucharest, 2006

with actress Anca Sigartau, writer Irina Mavrodin and choreographer Ioan Tugearu 

-- Muzeul Literaturii Romane, Bucharest, Romania, 2006









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