Conceived in the budding middle of spring, the first three were brought in this world during icy nights, the moon's sickle hanging on silver pine trees near the Dwelling of the Immortals. Perfect beings, in which sin had not yet made its nest, had just come into this world when, carried on sapphire light, the ancestors, bored by immortality, descended to steal them away, so as to have someone to love. This one belongs to me, the woman's cry tore through the silence of the summer night, when she had given birth to the fourth one. The full moon smiled upon them. The ancestors had fallen asleep among the stars.
(Translated by Marta Fulga / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by conf. dr. Daria Protopopescu / Edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.