She slept peacefully, dressed in a white dress, wearing a crown of poppy flowers. They laid her in a boat carved by all the men she loved. The children wove a bed of wicker and anointed her body with perfumed oils. As young and beautiful as she was, she was absent. Her spirit was now with the gods. They prayed for her on the wild beach, then set fire to the boat. A cloud of smoke lifted to the sky the grief of those left to watch the woman go. The waves carried her to another home. She opened her eyes, smiling.
Diana Andrasi Zarnoveanu
Let them go to the pope's sail where they came from, I'm sick of them all. With their sailors and all, they've eaten up my soul and my bow with all the lies I've heard from their mouths opened like a pit of crucified water. First the dragon, or the mermaid, or the North in the broad daylight, or that they sailed to the moon with Jack Sparrow, or that they swallowed the Panadura's' triangle five times and spat them out ready coiffed with Botticellian comb-overs. Their stories pass through all the straits of the imagination like thread through a needle's eye.
Florentina Ghițescu
Preparations were almost over. The trip should take 9 months. You never knew what you would meet. The crew was complete and everyone was driven by the same enthusiasm. That was the main requirement - to believe in the success of the expedition. If he'd got married, he wouldn't have gone. He loved her and he was determined to propose on his return. When he told her he was leaving, he didn't know he was seeing her for the last time. The sails rose and a dress fluttering like an angel's wing tumbled off the high cliff.
(Translated by Andreea Iulia Udroiu / 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 Ficțiuni Reale.