Ion Draganoiu, the man who is not Shakespeare yet

Poet Ion Draganoiu is amazingly intellectually mobile. A conversation with him is rushed and unpredictable, almost dizzying. He speaks to me (not one subject at a time but all at once or at least giving that impression) about Brasov, a city where we both spend our childhood, and about his friendship with Nichita Stanescu; they shared a room once near the Kogalniceanu Plazza.

He speaks to me of Tudor Vornicu and Lao-tzi that he and Cristina Cazacu just finished translating. He shows me the translation and states in self-irony: "It's like Budai-Deleanu," and he promptly shows me the other three Romanian versions of the "Book of the Way and Virtue" for an eventual confrontation. He hasn't issued a book in a long time ("What's the use to publish so many books").

However, this year he will publish three: Alice in Notionland, (DU Style Publishing House), "Yugoslavian Night" that he will launch in Belgrade (Cartea Romaneasca Publishing House) and "Cellular poem" (of the series "Poets of Bucharest"). He also mentions hunting. He tells me the story of a wooden table that he made himself, where he prepares what he has hunted.

Then he showed me a film. On the screen there are the towers of the Scheia Brasovului, Ion Draganoiu's parents and then the image of Marin Preda speaking of his first "literary success," the analysis of a Hogas description that drew the attention of his teacher and persuaded him to continue writing.

The film was made by Ion Draganoiu, based on fragments that Tudor Vornicu removed (too many churches) from a film made in the '70s - "Parents, our churches of flesh and blood." The title was taken from one of Nichita Stanescu's texts that he dedicated to the poet. It was even on TV a few months ago - at midnight.

Meanwhile, on the TV screen, Nichita Stanescu goes on about his feelings and his debut volume, published when the poet was already far from his youth's creations and felt they were no longer representative for him. Finally, he recited, in his own unmistakable way, "Elegia a opta, hiperboreeana..."

The film will be presented in a festival in Piatra- Neamt, a festival for religious films or something of the sorts not just because of the scenes involving churches and monasteries but (and Ion Draganoiu is convinced that he is not a very religious person)- because poetry is a religious effervescence.

The film, however, might be less pleasing for some priests. From film, we move on to photography. My host has many sensational snapshots. From wedding pictures of Nichita Stanescu, to pictures of Tudor ?opa, when he was just a few months old and was wearing a nice dress.

I can only tell Ion Draganoiu that I envy his unusual vitality, his sharp and mobile mind. "You know what?" he tells me. "I am not yet a Shakespeare, as I wanted to when I was a child." When I left, he lent me a few books and recommended the novels of Claudia Golea.