Anytime one runs across a valued, indispensable anthology, the list of books one wants to buy grows by leaps and bounds.  I haven’t even made my way through a tenth of New European Poets, and the list of names to google and/or buy is growing exponentially.  On top of that list, currently, is Ruxandra Cesereanu, from Romania.

Cesereanu only has one poem in New European Poets, but I have run into her work elsewhere — in an anthology of Transylvanian poets I reviewed nearly ten years ago.  As of this writing, I remember lines of her poem more than I do the title of that particular book.

learn with me to speak

our polyhedral language

Her poem in New European Poets displays that same sense of striking surreality that has stayed with me all these years.  So, upon searching Amazon, I found that Adam J. Sorkin has translated her into book form over here twice.

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