Easily one of the most poignant „minor” poets that I've read. After a short period in which he was associated with the Romanian avant-garde, Virgil Gheorghiu (not to be confused with another writer, Constantin Virgil Gheorghiu) blasted in the 1930s with a series of highly sophisticated volumes. Back then, his poetry was a spiced mix of all kinds of `isms` - more or less sadly, in 1940 he decides to choose for only one of those `isms`, neoclassicism... After a long break (in which he has not published socialist realist poems), the poet finally returns in the 1960s with new books, appreciated but never with the same critical acclaim. In 1977, he dies right after the big earthquake that caused quite a lot of damage and casualties. His poetry is today mostly forgotten and his piano performances even more so (since almost no recordings have been kept), but his sophisticated-to-an-otherwordly-degree poems may still find a few patient readers... such as me.

P.S. This edition would have been perfect, if the texts from the avant-garde period were in there too... ah well, you can't have everything - it's 'nuff to say that there probably won't be another VG edition any soon. ( )