ABOUT ME
I created this website (I would have preferred another term, as you can understand—one more suitable for an anachronist such as myself) precisely because I am an independent writer.
Untethered and hand-in-glove with dreams (well, even nightmares are still dreams), beholden to no literary clique, yet deeply indebted to my own principles; often hard to swallow without a barrel of holy water, envied or ignored, far removed from the penny-plain ambitions swarming above a world most often shrouded in fog, solitary to the point of self-forgetfulness.
Otherwise, I am glad that even my neighbors in the stairwell do not know my frivolous preoccupations, considering me one of their own.
For some time now I have stopped publishing in any literary journal, for reasons that also stem from my own abnormality, placing my trust only in the books I write—all of them parts of a different kind of autobiography, because each character, each verse, each word, each silence is me and only me.
And that seems enough.
“If you have indeed become a writer, and not because that was ever your will, then assume this anonymity as an occurrence of forbidden happiness: you are no
longer yourself, you are your work—whatever it may be—and your fellow beings will no longer disturb your restlessness, coveting the fate of insects
immortalized in ancient amber.”
Mihail Soare
LITERARY BIOGRAPHY
- Înger de prisos – poetry, Tiparg Publishing House, 2007
- Gâlceava mea cu Haydn sau despre Romanța pentru clopot la patru mâini – poetry, Brumar Publishing House, 2010, foreword by Mircea Micu
- Eu, Nietzscheanul – poetry, Rawex Coms Publishing House, 2012, cover blurb by
Emil Lungeanu - Livrescu – novel, Self Publishing, 2014
- Sfântul Cutare Poetul – poetry, Betta Publishing House, 2015, foreword by Lucian Gruia, cover blurb by Daniel Săuca
- Tălmăciri politicale (volume I) – essays, journalism, Betta Publishing House, 2015, presentation texts by Mihai Mărgineanu and Lucian Hetco (Agero Stuttgart)
- Zavera îngerilor (subtitled “Three thousand and something days and nights of poetry”) – poetry, author’s anthology, Betta Publishing House, 2016, foreword by Aureliu Goci
- Tălmăciri politicale (volume II) – essays, journalism, Betta Publishing House, 2016
- Iubirea ca o sârmă ghimpată – poetry, Betta Publishing House, 2016, foreword by
Eliza Roha, cover blurb by Șerban Codrin - Dragoste, pupeze și colaci – novel, Betta Publishing House, 2017
- Moaștele și alte povestiri – short prose, Eikon Publishing House, 2018
- Inflexiuni, eseuri și note de lectură – essays, Hoffman Publishing House, 2019,
afterword by Ionel Bota - Livrescu – novel, reprint, Eikon Publishing House, 2019
- Ars profetica – poetry, Eikon Publishing House, 2019, back cover text by Emil Lungeanu
- Dragoste, pupeze și colaci – novel, reprint, Hoffman Publishing House, 2020,
“Jurnalul cărților esențiale” collection, back cover texts by Ana Dobre and Ionel Bota - Scripturalia – poetry, Eikon Publishing House, 2021, with an accompanying CD
containing poems read by actors Maia Morgenstern and Claudiu Istodor - Mireasa mecanică – novel, Eikon Publishing House, 2021, back cover text by Mihăiță Stroe (Institute of Literary History and Theory “G. Călinescu” of the Romanian Academy)
- Frizerul, cu viața și morțile lui – short prose, Hoffman Publishing House, 2022,
“Jurnalul cărților esențiale” collection - Scripturalia – poetry, Eikon Publishing House, 2022, 2nd edition
- Paiațe – eseuri cu iz de fonfleuri – essays, Eikon Publishing House, 2022
- Același mort fără prihană arătat slugilor – poetry, Eikon Publishing House, 2022, back cover text by Mihăiță Stroe, flap texts by Vianu Mureșan and Eugen Simion
- Regele flașnetar – novel, Eikon Publishing House, 2023
- Într-un oraș fără teatru – verse, Betta Publishing House, 2024, foreword by Aureliu Goci, back cover text by Christian Crăciun
- Într-un oraș fără teatru – poetry (expanded edition), Eikon, 2024, foreword by
Aureliu Goci, back cover text by Christian Crăciun - Quise convertirme en invierno – poetry, Íbera Ediciones, 2025
- La judecata de acum a poetului – Eikon Publishing House, 2025
AWARDS AND DISTINCTIONS
Critical Echoes
Eugen Simion, Mircea Micu, Felix Nicolau, Mircea Bârsilă, Nicolae Georgescu, Emil Lungeanu, Ana Dobre, Florentin Popescu, Șerban Codrin, Lucian Gruia, Gabriel Cheroiu, Daniel Săuca, Ionel Bota, Aureliu Goci, Virgil Diaconu, Vianu Mureșan, Mihăiță Stroe etc.
Literary Awards
Respect for truth (so much philosophy in a single word, often cynically subordinated to immoral justifications at the mercy of existence’s perfidious design) would have compelled me to mention here also the awards I have refused, but out of fear of being misunderstood, I refrained.
Leaving aside my own considerations regarding this kind of competition (as if the term borrowed from sports gently helps the perception become more fluid), I prefer juried contests, a rara avis, judged blindly.
Yet the most important honors are, of course, the reactions of my readers—some of them quite special, not by chance—whom I am deeply grateful to, many of whom have since become my friends. In other words, they are the halves of that “essential fact of life” which, as Jorge Luis Borges, the great blind visionary, called friendship.
First Prize at the National Short Prose Contest “Nicolae Velea”, 2017
First Prize for published works in 2017 (the novel Dragoste, pupeze și colaci), at the National Literature Competition “Eminescu la Oravița”
First Prize at the National Poetry Contest “Radu Cârneci”, 2017
First Prize at the National Short Prose Contest “Nicolae Velea”, 2018
Critics’ Prize for Foreign Poetry (Il Premio della Critica), at the “Verba volant, scripta manent” Contest, Italy, 2018
“Special Prize for the Best Text” at the Kooperativa2.0; Herbalife Competition, 2018
First Prize – George Coșbuc Colloquia – National Poetry Festival, 2020, for the volume Ars profetica
First Prize, Poetry Section – International Creative Festival “Vrancea literară”, 2020, for the volume Ars profetica
Grand Prize of the National Short Prose Contest “Nicolae Velea”, 2021
First Prize, Novel Section – International Creative Festival “Vrancea literară”, 2022, for the volume Mireasa mecanică
First Prize at the “Vrancea literară” Creative Festival, 2022 – Novel Section (for the volume Mireasa mecanică)
Grand Prize at the National Poetry Contest “Radu Cârneci”, 2024 edition
Grand Prize at the International Poetry Festival “Nichita Stănescu”, organized by the Romanian Cultural House in Getafe – Madrid, Spain, 5th edition, 2025, for the volume Într-un oraș fără teatru
“Author’s Anthology” Prize, International Poetry Festival Getafe, 6th edition, 2026, for the volume Quise convertirme en invierno
LAUNCHES, EVENTS, TRANSLATIONS
INTERVIEWS
Not many, according to my own whim — a few on radio stations, in outdated newspapers, or various magazines, some with a certain prestige, like harmless occurrences.
Interview conducted by Mihăiță Stroe from the “G. Călinescu” Institute of Literary History and Theory, published in Caiete critice, no. 3–4/2022
- Spanish version Mihail Soare „El sufrimiento es infinitamente más fértil espiritualmente que su opuesto”
- Romanian version: Interviu cu scriitorul Mihail Soare, laureat al Premiului Festivalului Internațional de Poezie Nichita Stănescu Getafe-Madrid 2025, organizat de Casa Română de Cultură
AUDIO AND VIDEO RECORDINGS
Listen on YouTube to 18 recorded poems
18 poems from the volume Scripturalia, read by actors Maia Morgenstern and Claudiu Istodor, can be listened to on the YouTube channels of Hoffman and Eikon publishing houses.
Audio-video collages by Ciprian Alexandrescu
SUNDRY OPINIONS
If literary commentators have pleased my mind, non-literary readers have often moved me with messages carried on wings of hopeful souls, and even through their gestures. And thus the existence of this place, which greatly weakens my solitude, belongs in largely owed to them.
Summa cum laudae.
Inconvenient as a formidable fencer, surprisingly methodical for a writer (at least so appearances suggest), and visionary as though the future were already a printed book, belonging to that rare breed of individuals with character and uprightness, in these difficult times of the nation, when the tyranny of the insolent disturbs the authority, the peace, the hopes, and the customs of a people who long to escape fear, Mihail Soare ethically promotes liberation from the dark suffocation of the spirit caused by mediocrity, and the recovery of hope through freedom of thought — all of which would not be possible without the frankness of thinkers and writers of his stature.
Despite the timid perception of the general, uninformed reader, unaccustomed to matters spoken plainly yet nonconformist, labeled with respect through courage or aplomb, with the certainty of a stable spirit — that untainted Geist which survives freely among those lost within a subversive society that in other ways defrauds those who think differently — this can only be an immense gain for those who still wish to see, to hear, and to understand.
Lucian Hetco, former editor-in-chief of Agero-suttgart.de
Not in the least lamentational or blasphemous, Mihail Soare’s poems open an intriguing path of literary introspection — and not only literary — though it is not recommended for those weaker in… angels & saints. A paradoxical path of a happiness that is hard to bear and, even more so, hard to understand: “Poets are, my lords, / (I have said it before, though I have remained unheard) / the happiest people on earth.”
Daniel Săuca, poet, editor, publicist
The writing is alert, the details are carefully crafted (and reworked), the creative workshop is constantly disrupted by narrativity; story itself becomes paradise. The restoration of memory competently deepens innocence and humor, the trivial and the gallant side of language, while social environments are thoroughly explored.
The author’s achievement, who also understands the strategies of demystification, resembles an unmistakable project, a systematic endeavor; in this sense, the authorial self and the narrative self are meticulous accomplices in overcoming exclusivisms. They are not at all pleasure-seekers; they are modest investigators of their own destiny before insinuating themselves into the destiny of the other/others, passionate in their convictions.
It is an intertwining of beliefs, extraordinary up to a point, shaping through the force of their personality the very expressive force of the story, of narration itself.
For Mihail Soare, this is very clear: writing is not a form of vanity; it is emotional prospecting through which the stirred soul removes and excludes the drama of human absence from the magma of everyday facts (the world as a theater within theater) until the point where narration itself comes forward and illuminates.
The author shows that the struggle with amnesia is by no means lost, as long as talents such as his succeed in bringing forth solid works and genuine samples of authentic literature.
Ionel Bota, writer
Mihail Soare writes prose in which attention is successively distributed among the narrator, the story, its making, and the receiver. The writer has his own conception of writing and of the act of writing itself. He brings into the fictional space of writing both the story and the meditation on the story, as well as on the relationships it implies.
From this distribution of narrative attention emerges an engaging novel that continually challenges the reader, never allowing them to lapse into passivity for even a moment. The novel can also be read as a manifesto against lazy prose, just as, once upon a time, Ion Barbu declared himself against lazy poetry.
Ana Dobre, literary critic
The writer’s polyvalent craft allows him to “journalize” in an original, intricate, yet captivating manner, interpreting politics in a way different from the rest of the world, with fine but sharply biting irony (for those who can catch it), with the talent of a conjurer envied by amateurs, with Renaissance-like erudition misplaced in another age, and with the probing eye of an impartial analyst.
Mihai Mărgineanu, musician, actor
In his spectacular metamorphoses, Mihail Soare strikes me as a Wallachian Radu Stanca — lucid and proud. The balladic, playful, and buffoon-like tone demythologizes even poetry itself. Yet, by ricochet, it grants the author the meaning of life.
Mihail Soare’s poetry will be savored by intelligent readers, seekers of multiple layers of meaning behind linguistic spectacle, as well as by lovers of stylistic refinements — both groups captivated by an ars poetica seemingly born from times never lived by anyone, only imagined.
Lucian Gruia, writer
What is certain is that the effortless encyclopedism and the astonishing inventiveness of Mihail Soare’s writing deliver a grand lexical spectacle, of the kind only a virtuoso acrobat disguised as a clown is capable of producing.
The elevation of this author, with a name seemingly predestined (is the Morning Star of Romanian poetry not itself a sun named Mihail?), makes today’s literary criticism appear, by contrast, all the more diminished, still hesitant to acknowledge his rising. And when, if not at night, is the sun more thoroughly overlooked?
The medieval darkness in which such brilliant pens find themselves today would have made Friedrich Nietzsche, the mentor of the solitary poet, refrain even from preaching that “the night is also a sun.”
Emil Lungeanu, writer
Referring to the author’s anthology Zavera îngerilor (Betta Publishing House, 2015), the preface writer, literary critic and historian Aureliu Goci, noted the “singular trajectory within the current poetic context” practiced by Mihail Soare, defined by the originality of a poet endowed with an impressive arsenal of means, who managed in a short time to build an important body of work.
For Mihail Soare has indeed burst forth with the force of a “volcano in colossal eruption” (an appreciation belonging to Șerban Codrin), knocking down the doors of literature, entering
where he rightfully belongs, achieving astonishing metamorphoses. His latest volume, Love Like a Barbed Wire (Betta Publishing House, 2016), has put into difficulty all those who believed (myself among them) that such things could no longer happen.
“I am a crook, a fool, and a scoundrel,/ I am whatever you wish, but I am also God,” he writes in a memorable poem.
And truly, the role suits him: our poet is, like God, a creator who allows himself to be brought into the spotlight only with difficulty, preferring in the spectacle of words the role of puppeteer. And what a spectacle it is! One might say that Domenico di Giovanni himself has been reincarnated across the centuries, nostalgic for the astonishing metrical acrobatics of his former age.
A truly brilliant author, fully justifying the title of this portrait — itself only a humble sketch, far from the grandeur it deserves, a Michelangelesque alfresco.
Emil Lungeanu, writer
The volume “Sfântul Cutare Poetul” appears as a cohesive whole, like a single poem, like a lyrical discourse that attests both to a highly original mode of expression, perfectly mastered, and to a universe populated by the questions and anxieties of modern man, whom civilization has condemned/continues to condemn to an apparently irredeemable alienation.
And the greater and deeper this alienation becomes, the more the impulses and accents of dissatisfaction and revolt against the order of the world turn into a source of poetry — true poetry. Within this realm, Mihail Soare officiates, as I said at the beginning, about himself, about others, and about the universe, with expressiveness, sensitivity, great assurance, and remarkable persuasive force.
Florentin Popescu, writer
Fascinating metaphors and staggering poetic games through sheer originality (though an originality that stems from a different kind of naturalness, without the slightest trace of ostentation, as someone once noted in an inspired review), expressive, at times playful, marked by a seemingly involuntary boldness, unusual definitions, bitter irony, self-irony, and a dazzling ingenuity that suggests, deliberately, that he feels with intelligence rather than with the heart (though the ethereal dimension of the soul is omnipresent, weaving itself through and between everything), with a gaze directed from within outward, each person toward their own sky — seen differently from all others: “(…) each had their own sky, this was clear to me from the very beginning / a given like the body, the eyes, or death” (…) (Memories from the Afterlife).
(…) A mischievous child of poetry, he gathers the lowly word and lifts it like a kite into the sky of his lyricism, granting it literary stature, thus becoming a bold innovator of metaphors, eternally dissatisfied with what he finds, rewriting things that seemed touched by immutability, naming truth (by the name he gives it), leaping over conventions and taboos, revealing the human condition in all its forms without desacralizing it, despite his constant quarrel with divinity.
Eliza Roha, writer
Mihail Soare reveals himself as a Herculean poet, charged with matter and ideas, free to play, in all seven directions, with the entire rack of poetry’s ingredients. No form of censorship compels him — not even a transcendental one — to write with a strictly defined message, even though it remains present in the subtext. Instead, he laughs like Till Eulenspiegel at humanity, at art, at stupidity, at wisdom, at happiness, at resentment, at the absence of God, at the flatness of angels, at love, at dreams.
He joins the company of Don Quixote, caring only about “the coldest autumn evenings,” about “crippled meanings,” about his own weaknesses and mad illusions, about everything and anything, with a freedom of spirit equal to a talent that is devilishly playful, yet also serious and dramatic.
All in all, Mihail Soare is a poet in full measure, fully active in a creative, intensive, overflowing state, endowed with enough gift to claim the ability to compose masterpieces in the form of poems that can be cut out of contexts, or even entire books — to which he nevertheless adds the virtues of a lyrical architect.
Șerban Codrin, poet
I keep reading some of this author’s poems and wondering what the hell language he wrote them in. To say it is Romanian would be correct, in a sense. It is Romanian — or rather, it is also Romanian. Otherwise, it feels like a language invented by him alone. And only a few Romanian writers — only the titans of this literary tongue — have dared to reinvent the Romanian language. Mihail Soare is among them. (…)
In these conditions, he is the only Romanian poet of whom Mircea Cărtărescu should be wary — Cărtărescu, already canonized as the major poet and nothing else. Therefore, any accounting of contemporary poets must begin with him (and perhaps two others), just as one could not construct a so-called top without Mihai Eminescu, for instance.
Mihail Soare is the poet of the beginning of the century, writing with devastating force, for whom recognition arriving out of the wilderness would likely seem, knowing him well, a bad joke.
Șerban Codrin, poet
“Poets are failures!” shouts a major writer, his clenched mouth trembling — for some, a dazzling surprise — Mihail Soare, of the lineage of bards with enchanted lyres.
Out of his own despair, he makes us understand — or not — with tenderness but also with sarcasm, that those named poets are victims of their own “frustration,” even within the abyss of the blue heart, another place for playful frolicking, where barbed wire “is a kind of absolute of love.”
Vigorous and mischievous, with neither sky inclined toward compromise nor earth, as for so-called humans, he sends them to the wall of poetic execution!
Thus he plays the role of master of a vast machine, into whose abyss he stuffs, with a pantagruelian hunger, the most shocking accusations, upside-down judgments, staggering paradoxes, opportunities to build poems in free verse, unusually long, scratched into plaster with the hard chisel of his fabulous “Mihailian” language, but also with other, unconventional versifications.
Șerban Codrin, poet
Isolated and insurgent, under the sign of assumed anonymity, with no declared affiliation to any literary generation — and equally difficult to categorize as belonging to one — Mihail Soare reconfigures the myth of the efflorescent poet from a fortunate province, like a promised land, or rather reactivates the auspicious myth of the nonconformist poet, transmitting an incendiary message of rebellion against all rules and constraints.
(…) Mihail Soare follows a singular trajectory within the current poetic context, even though the path itself is a familiar one, already recorded by a previous generation as a decisive imprint in the evolution of Romanian poetry. A “remake,” a point of reference, and a rereading of the anarchic discourse formulated by the war generation, to which the poet has added a marked kernel of originality and an ironic-bitter smile.
Aureliu Goci, literary critic
First of all, I note the exceptional quality of the verse, the genuine modernity of the imagery, and, finally, the variety of imagination, which moves effortlessly from subtle irony to grave existential themes. (…) Mihail Soare is a first-class poet, solitary and bohemian, a fanciful and ironic neo-symbolist, a revelation in today’s Romanian lyric poetry, which is dominated, as I have already said, by a skeptical, wingless minimalism.
Eugen Simion, literary critic and historian
Fierce or seraphic, profound or ironic, meditative or sarcastic, he cultivates classical verse with the natural ease and confidence of a gifted professional. But he handles free verse just as well. He possesses a special linguistic inventiveness, juggling words, ingeniously bringing them together in sentences and phrases of a distinctive musicality, and thanks to this gift of a magician with a long and somewhat unearthly practice, he allows himself to shock prudish minds or critics frozen in conventionalism. Gâlceava mea cu Haydn sau despre Romanţa pentru clopot la patru mâini is a superb book in which a true poet exercises his erudition, humor, and, of course, his authentic and profound talent.
Mircea Micu, poet
I am not aware of any contemporary Romanian poet who has so many different voices, who adopts so many formulas in the composition of his poems, who moves with the same ease across classical and postmodern rhythms without the slightest awkwardness, with the sovereign skill of dancers who can perform the same acrobatics either on a tightrope or on the ground, as Mihail Soare does.
Vianu Mureșan, philosopher and writer
Confident writing, the irony that electrifies the novelistic atmosphere, and the author’s ability to naturally bind the whole to its constituent parts are aspects that, taken together, have given me the pleasant impression that Livrescu is an eminent novel (in the etymological sense of the term), and that Mihail Soare is a prose writer who must be taken seriously, and rightly so, by literary criticism.
Mircea Bârsilă, poet, literature professor
The volume Ars profetica, already well received by literary criticism and even awarded a prize, has the potential to remain a landmark in Mihail Soare’s creative work, reinforcing the author’s attraction toward poetry with an ethical, broadly philosophical charge, as well as the dialogue — long since begun — with the great ideas of the modern world.
Nicolae Georgescu, writer, Eminescu scholar
There is a single homeland for literature, and the homeland of any literature is the language in which it is written! Any writer, consciously or unconsciously, cannot ignore the literary system of the language in which they write. By “literary system” we understand the repertoire of literary works published along both the diachronic and synchronic axes. By system diachrony we understand the dominant authority of tradition. The synchronic dimension of a literary system is the register of contemporary works.
In the History of Literature, the central term is “tradition,” but when referring to Mihail Soare, I must note that his work marks an intertwining of systems. It leans on tradition in order to smoothly transition into new art, which is nothing other than the reorganization of an outdated aesthetic system or the construction of a new edifice out of old elements.
I have always found it difficult to place him within literary movements, because from the very beginning, for me as a reader, Soare(le) has stood in these two positions: on one hand archaic, and on the other innovative. Archaic, because he has not overturned (at least so far) the boundaries of genres: poetry, novel, story — they remain as they have traditionally been.
Yet the innovative Mihail Soare lies in the elements that connect language with stylistic registers, sensitivity, and ideas, in such a way that a discerning reader can recognize the authorship of his texts even without the author’s name on the cover.
I believe that in Romanian literature, innovative literary processes have emerged gradually, alongside the evolution of the personal literary systems of a group of poets and novelists, mainly after the 1990s, and that the problem of renewing the literary system is more a collective contribution of several literary individuals, regardless of age, than the achievement of a single literary personality.
The courage and ambition of Mihail Soare’s work aim at the “renewal of literature,” because where writing dares, there are no taboos. And because his work is governed by an absolute law — the law of art.
In any case, for our literature, the writer Mihail Soare remains, for now, unequalled. Brilliant! Radiant!
Oana Glasu, Albanian translator
I gave up poetry because of him. Or rather, thanks to him. I told myself: brother, if you can’t write like this—and you never will—just quit.
If I had a lot of money, piles of money like politicians do, for example, I would found a research institute dedicated to the poetry of this happy-unhappy man. Because, in my view as an avid reader (and, some would say, someone with a bit of culture) and former blogger with numerous identities (nicknames, that is), it is difficult to grasp his phenomenal scope otherwise.
I once reproached him in an article published on a fairly decent website, now unfortunately gone, for “his foolish modesty,” but later I understood that he has the detachment of someone who is fully aware of his own value, in a world of absolute misery. In another text, written after he received a major prose award, I even said he deserved a major award for good sense as well.
That he is also an exceptional prose writer—a great prose writer, as editor Valentin Ajder said—is no surprise. And anyone who has read his novels will agree with me.
But he is also a master of short prose, and the volume The Barber with His Life and His Deaths (what a title!) should be a textbook for film screenwriters, if one thinks of the extraordinary movies that could be made from it. All that is needed is to reproduce the atmosphere, those strange yet so naturally integrated characters, and success would be guaranteed.
I got to know him while collaborating in the period when he was writing political editorials. I would also recommend reading the volume Paiațe, an authentic demonstration of erudition, top-quality humor, and flair based on intelligence and a perfect understanding of the nation, every one of its predictions having come true exactly as written.
Anyone who has not read a book by Mihail Soare could be said to have lived in vain. And, to quote one of his “friends,” Tudor Mușatescu: “Some people live for free, others in vain.”
George Sabin, reader, Bratislava
I find no decisive basis for describing the context and literary landscape in which Mr. Mihail Soare appears (or rather, appeared), cutting through poetry with a machete left and right, amid the vast heap of literary waste that nowadays forces the screws of bookstore shelves to strain.
Much has been written about this state of our local letters (ironically, isn’t it?), and yet another lament would only continue this glissando from one generation to the next.
It might, however, still be useful for those readers yet unborn—who will one day discover him by chance while navigating the digitized libraries of the future—to know something about this author and his world. Well, we can tell them that he did not belong to us.
And those hipster descendants who will turn our author into the object of strange and exotic “personal” discoveries, a kind of Maximus the Confessor (a “Saint So-and-So the Poet”?) rediscovered a millennium later, should know that even we, his contemporaries, did not receive him into our hearts—because our hearts were so small that only we ourselves could fit inside them.
Perhaps it would be useful to force a technical metaphor and say that if poetry were the world’s line of code, the one that describes equally the hidden dynamics of a leaf swayed by the wind, of a flight, or of a regret, then Mr. Soare would be a good interpreter of it—one who did not give up in the face of our poetic illiteracy, pretending instead that he had someone to write for.
Now, stepping away from this messianic tone that is harmful to even minimal objectivity (as confirmed by the ordinary words used when weighing a writer), we may settle down by classifying Mr. Soare as a poet of the kind who is not afraid to write both in rhyme and in rhythm, without being monotonous—a rare appearance, like those fanciful footballers who dare to dribble in a sport otherwise suffocated by endless pass-pass play.
Mihăiță Stroe
(“G. Călinescu” Institute of Literary History and Theory)