With a seed in the corner of her mouth, the woman sighs. Girl, I want my stockings stall. The man, beer in hand, belches melodiously. This luxury sucks. You know, at our fair. Music, barbecues. Why so many baubles. Why is all the vegetables small? What, can't they water them, like Auntie Veta? When that one dies, she dies on top of the parsley. Does they have peanuts? Not as good as the seeds, she hisses through gold teeth. Rough being rich. You can't stay in 2 Mai village. No, you stay in Mamaia resort. You'll starve with these. There's a game tonight. And we're out of seeds.
Corina Nina
Árpád and Mara grew up together. They lived on the same street in Cluj, right next to the Protestant Church. They fell in love around eighth grade. She used to tell him fondly, Hungarian, your shoulders are broader than the Carpathians. He laughed, Your kiss is sweeter than kürtőskalács. When he told her Szeretlek, Mara's face broke into a smile as wide as the Danube in front of the Parliament in Budapest, But I love you more, Hungarian! But Árpád's father didn't want a Romanian daughter-in-law. He sent him to Hungary for college. Mara joined him after a year.
Arthur Ianoși
I watch my mother light candles in December and am proud to be hers. When all around is nothing but rot, when this land has raised to heaven only the souls that will save it, it's peaceful to see how she weeps and waters the frozen flowers. It hurts, but it's good. She's alive. I've never seen a greater patriot. She has returned from among foreigners to find other foreigners. Mom? Woe betide you, thieving bastards, I hear her mutter through her teeth. Lord, come oh Lord, and see what is left of the People.
(Translated by Adriana-Maria Botea / 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.