Altitude: 245 m
Population: 65 509 inhabitants. (2011)

Viewed from above, for the ordinary traveller, Reșița is a picturesque town, both day and night.        

From the “city of fire” it turned into the “city with poets”. Read their poetry.

Ion Chichere

     The marble notebook                     

God, help me understand
what is man
what is his being
and who changes time
out of conscience
like the summer sky
torn by crests
and thought and living
how do they perish
at dawn
when the night star
and how from the memory returns
someone other than
the one who lives.


Octavian Doclin

         The lead thread

Creed: Give me, Lord, through word the power
                                 to make, in nonword,
                                 from the world, the most holy song,
                                 by which to kill the pain.
The scales have watched and measured
my step through the wilfulness of the word
in the brook or in full baking
on that time
for a moment I thought I would become
more powerful than it
after the storm the too hot sand

Closed my eyes, blurred my eyes
only for a moment
so the unseen lead wire
was disturbed in its measurement
until then.

Toma George Maiorescu
              In the forests of Semenic

In the forests of Semenic
Every tree has a name

and on every branch there is a
singing bird
Under your eyes the nights
go to sleep ashamed
under your smile
it snows with petals and bells,
under your voice
the birds stand silently listening
In the forests of Semenic
the trees have lost their name
And every branch is waiting for you….


Olga Neagu
            I push the city through my memory

… I push the city through my memory
forcedly through shadows and images
catacombs and marshlands, the factory moaned
spring bloomed on a wrecked fence
as a vertebra I link it to the bones
on which I align my being as the vine on a rod
between images and high or low spaces
the city becomes angel and devil.


I push the city through my memory
I make decor changes through dreams
wherever I put it my eyes got blurred
and I declared all my wounds open.

                                                                                          The Cultural Palace

The building with a pure Romanian architecture, in the Brâncovean style, was built between 1928-1930 and was opened on June 29th 1930.

Elegance and style, the modern and classic blend into what is today the Cultural Palace, reopened on December 15th 2010, for the performances of the West Theatre of Reşiţa and those organized by the Cultural Association Reșița Română.


Ion Stoia Udrea
         The factory’s book

(…) Somewhere
a siren sounds the end of work
The night
all the moon’s shutters were closed.
Through the window
you see legs
heavy feet with slow stride
light feet with dancing leap
feet with thin ankles
in silky stockings,
feet that barely resist,
work feet,
dance feet,
feet of lust,
young, old,
they come, they pass and they go away,

Gheorghe Zincescu

          It snowed on the fir trees
(…) Creed: What do you say, is autumn coming,       
                           or is it just an illusion           
                           this twilight in humans         
                           and in the honeycombs.      
It snowed on the fir trees in Reșița Romana

It snowed on the hills, on the cableway
On the big birds near the fountain
On the smoke and amber houses
And all of them stand still in the middle of the weather
Not daring to move or breathe
The light itself seems to be afraid
of the so-white silver beaten thin (…)
And time forgets to change in the towers
And flows back to the dead under the crosses
Where are the shadows gathering from?
To reach an infant

Running through the snow

barefoot. Is it me? Or only together 
Were we once a very big soul …

Costel Stancu
You will be wandering within your inner self
like the sphere within its centre,
until some day when you understand
that death cannot be deceived.
Only then will you live freely, oh man,
free of yourself and ignorant,
looking at the world as if
you have seen it for the first time!



Iacob Roman

          In the morning

Early in the morning when the roosters were singing
a bad or good spirit rejected me
more lonely than the bird on the roof
more frightened than the smoke deer
entering through the water of the dry window
he did not turn or leave the path
just the earth was shaken once
and the air rushed like a sea grass.

                                                                        The University „Eftimie Murgu” of Reşiţa

 Visit the Reșița University for:

“Rediscovery through culture
   Culture through education
     Education through knowledge
        Knowledge through research
             Research through creativity



Nicolae Sârbu
              All the roads lead to Thomas

Listen, Lord, how Thomas
is bitten by the pack of dogs of his unbelief
They bite him again inside         
as an Eastern communion wafer. (…)

I did not think I could ever learn to doubt
like Thomas.
When doubt grows like a wound
and you alone put salt on it
to see if it can become a star.
When all the winds, like the wind passes
through the raw and cold grass,
where the lamb grazes and sanctifies it.
He doubted and believed like a man.
He alone touched You for us.
And You loved him and forgiven him for wanting
to know the ultimate flavour of truth.

When all roads go to Thomas.

                                                 “The City with Poet” by P. Comisarschi

Nicolae Irimia
               Letter from Home

Mum sends me news
From home:
“You should know that on the grass of childhood
Cold fell,
Over the roof of our old house
The wind’s flower shook;
It knelt,

Even the last leaf
of the elm, which had longed for you.
Troubled – the water of the windows,
And the beams are getting thinner and thinner
Of memories.
As for me,
You should know I’m healthy and I get along
Better and better
With the ashes
And with the smoke.”



“Poem” by Liubita Raichici

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