Every evening I turn off the flashlight, remove my helmet, and sit on the bench next to the others. The van leaves in its wake a cloud of chocking soot. The same tired faces, staring at one another - bruised lips, calloused hands, bodies wrapped in a cloth of black tar. Slimy eyes which see the same road day after day. At the end, most of them are being expected by their wives and children. For others, life no longer means that much. Only Eliot, Poe and Heaney await me. For them I go down in the mines everyday.
Laura Stanciu
They mean to close down Petrila, Fănica. Yesterday's accident put a lid on it. What are we going to do, Stelică? We'll starve to death. Do not worry. I thought about it on the way. What if we go to your sister's in Germany? Or would it be better to try other of mine from Vale? At Vulcan. Or in Lupeni, because my brother's also there. They'll give us some salaries, they won't leave us like this, they're obligated to. Either way, we have to move. \'Cause it's 100 kilometres to Lupeni. If you also agree that it's good, we'll leave this house for the kids, and go wherever it's needed.
Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
passes through the valley of the shadow, where I wander blindly, still wearing the scarf with which you covered my eyes. There's no end to my journey, for I stumble too often. Or maybe there's one I haven't figured out yet. Yesterday I crossed through what felt like a desert. I was thirsting, but not only for water. For life as well. One lived to the fullest. Yes, I know. More intense. Don't go rolling your eyes. I'm sure you agree with me. But I couldn't find it. And then I picked up a rock and hit myself. What a lunatic, you said to yourself.
(Translated by Diana Georgiana Rădăcineanu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.