Frunză's aunt Ileana, who was also Petrache's aunt Aglaia's sister and Dad's godmother, had come to visit us on the Saturday before Whitsuntide and after she kept fumbling with her stumpy fingers about my clever child's tender cheeks, she asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Hiccup, I replied, I'd like to get people to drink water instead of alcohol. What nonsense. And what else? insisted the crone. A drone. What do you mean? mother, father, and aunt Ileana asked in one voice as if struck by indignation. In a wise, old man's voice, I replied: So I could take care of bees.
(Translated by Diana Stănescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by prof. dr. Nadina Vișan / Edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.