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  1. Cuptor

From the recording Boema Bacoviana

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Cuptor

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Cuptor / Song Description

Cuptor is a musical interpretation of George Bacovia’s disturbing symbolist poem, created for the Boema Bacoviană album.
This is not Bacovia’s familiar world of cold rain, autumn parks and deserted streets. Here, the city is trapped beneath an unbearable heat. The air has stopped moving. Bodies decompose, the living themselves appear corrupted, and the boundary between life and death begins to dissolve.

At the centre of this suffocating landscape stands the strangely intimate address:

„Sunt câțiva morți în oraș, iubito…”

The word „iubito” should suggest tenderness, yet Bacovia places it beside images of death and decomposition. Love, perfume and roses exist alongside corpses and oppressive heat, creating one of the poem’s most unsettling contradictions. Even intimacy seems unable to escape the physical deterioration surrounding it.
The strong perfumes and roses are not signs of romance anymore. They become attempts to cover what cannot truly be hidden - the smell of decomposition, the passing of time and the uncomfortable awareness that the living belong to the same material world as the dead.
The song embraces that disturbing atmosphere. Rather than searching for beauty inside the poem, it allows repetition, tension and moments of disorder to create the sensation of being trapped inside a city that has become its own cuptor / an oven.
And eventually the poem returns to where it began:

„Sunt câțiva morți în oraș, iubito,
Și-ncet, cadavrele se descompun…”

Nothing has been resolved. Nothing has escaped.
Within Boema Bacoviană, Cuptor represents a different face of Bacovia: not simply melancholy, but heat, claustrophobia, physical decay and the grotesque intimacy between love and death.
The city is decomposing - and the living are already becoming part of it.

Lyrics

Sunt cativa morti în oras, iubito,
Chiar pentru asta am venit să-ti spun;
Pe catafalc, de caldura-n oras,
Incet, cadavrele se descompun.

Cei vii se misca si ei descompusi,
Cu lutul de caldura asudat;
E miros de cadavre, iubito,
Si azi, chiar sanul tau e mai lasat.

Toarna pe covoare parfume tari,
Adu roze pe tine să le pun;
Sunt cativa morti în oras, iubito,
Si-ncet, cadavrele se descompun...