'In Petrescu's poem, Afternoon at Buon Giorno's, Poetry with a capital P, elegantly sitting drinking lemon, lime and bitters, remarks that her interest now is in the lyrical stance of the ordinary. To which her interlocutor, Mephistopheles, replies, Bullshit. Should Poetry sell her soul to this devil? Of course she should - but only if he is a less whimsical figure than the neo-Gothic Dracula Bram Stoker ascribed to Petrescu's native Transylvania.' - John Drew, Cambridge, UK