Geo Bogza, Bucharest May, 11, 1993

 

His name was Gheorghe Ursu. We used to call him Babu. When you looked at him, he seemed an ordinary man; but he was so exceptional person. I remember him coming upon me on the seawall at Mangalia: the new seawall under construction then - it happened during the '70th.
Gheorghe Ursu was trying to fish: he looked sunny and exalted by the sea. He was always found a joy in meeting a poet, in that day he saw me; he got near to me with a happy smile; we knew each other in this way - there, at the end of seawall. The conversation with him was a pleasure, an extra-pleasure. He was very cultivated, he had a frail and childlike soul, and his entire being was suave.
If I had to compare to something, I would assimilate him with a Japanese kimono. It can't be said about Gheorghe Ursu what the poets generally like to be told about them: that they are great poets. But him was an exemplary poet! And he died in the Securitate's cellars. To kill such a man is the same thing with killing the King of the Butterflies.
It is fitting that the entire Romanian culture to stand up and to greet the memory of Gheorghe Ursu".