It hadn't rained in a while and the villagers were worried. Send her in the clearing, they asked grandma. Only she knows. From my very first step, the poppies bowed down. I started moving slowly, my feet were ripping bits of wind. I tread the grass, heya heya heya heya. The poppies are savagely pulled, clashing into each other with a tinkle. Let the drums play. Dum dummm. Let the heavens crack. Let the lightening streak. There is a church bell ringing in the village, foretelling peace. The raindrops are falling hard to the ground together with me. Boy, what a storm I was. Kind of crossed the line there, grandma says. Smiling.
(Translated by Iulia-Teodora Urea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficţiuni Reale.