Niculina OPREA was born in 1957 in Craiova, a town situated in the south of Romania.
She has a degree in law.
A member of the Romanian Writers’ Union and of the Writers’ Society of Bucharest, she published eight poetry volumes:
The volumes:
- 'In The Akheron’s Waters' 1994;
- 'The Passage',1996;
- 'Under The Tiranny of the Silence',2000;
- 'Litanies At The Edge of the Memory',2002
- '...Next Summer You Will Be The Same',2004;
- 'Almost Black',2004;
- 'Les Guérisons imaginaires',2007, (the French version of the book Almost Black)
- 'Our Lives and Other People’s Lives',2008, were favorably received by the literary critics.
She is present also in the following collective volumes:
- 'Literary Manual',2004;
- 'The Garden',2006, (Poetic anthology) , (100 Romanian poets translated in Serbian by the poet Miljurko Vukadinovic) ,
- 'Pagini literare. ro / literary pages.ro/ pages littéraires.ro', (selected 45 Romanian writers to be translated abroad) , book edited by the European Forum of Literary Magazines,2007;
- 'Terre de poètes / terre de paix', (Land of Poets/Land of Peace) 2007, Camerun, (Poetic anthology, Paris,2007) .
She is working on another two books: 'Între real ş i imaginar (Between Real an Imaginary) / Ipostaze ale poeziei actuale (Contemporary Poetry States) ', the book which contains sends off and literary chronicles of the books belonging to 50 Romanian and foreign writers.
Fragments of her poetry can be read in English, French, Turkish, Serbian and Albanian.
Niculina Oprea
Bucharest
Romanie
e-mail; [email protected]
[email protected]
http: //www.geocities.com/niculina.oprea
http: //niculinaoprea.blogspot.com/
http: //www.iblogyou.fr/neli
http: //niculinaoprea.wordpress.com/
http: //www.lechasseurabstrait.com/revue/IMG/article_PDF/article_1891.pdf
http: //www.lechasseurabstrait.com/revue/spip.php? rubrique583
http: //transcriptio.over-blog.net/pages/Niculina_Oprea-140168.html
http: //www.omnigraphies.com/modules/news/article.php? storyid=259
http: //blogs.aol.fr/niculinaoprea57/niculinaoprea
http: //transcriptio.over-blog.net/article-12940092.html
As I open the window
another day’s arms embrace me,
I sell myself to a different sort of sleep
...
In the attic that’s said to be body and that knows
to cast only shadows
I hear furious blood
rush through my palms.
...