He scouted the sky in search of the Moon but it was gone. It was gone. He rummaged through the neighboring yards, through the tall grass, through the trees of the forest and couldn't find it. So, he went out into the alley and looked further. Eventually he found it leaning over the well's casing. He lowered the pitcher and pulled it out full. The moon floated like a big round loaf of bread. He sank the mug and drank it down. He passed it to the others until the moon was gone and the shiny bottom of the sippy cup became visible. By the next night dreams sprouted all over the village.
Andrei Lămureanu
He blew the smoke slowly, thinly, in a fine weave of mysterious weaves. The figures danced with ephemeral grace, then vanished spookily into the night air. He shook his pipe in the raw grass and closed his eyes, revising that foreboding dance. What was he going to tell people? That he had seen dreadful battles? That hundreds, thousands would perish, that they would endure famine and poverty? That children would be born to serve even crueler masters? He wished he had been blind. Or mad. He sighed. The lonely moon in the sky gazed upon him coldly. Foreign. Immaculate.
Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
Word has it that she had gone mad, but I think she was taken seriously then. As they, in their black suits, discussed a future of the world that no one else believed in, the young woman suddenly jumped up on the table and started to take off her clothes. The gentlemen looked at her dumbstruck. She, now naked, continued her lascivious dance as she nibbled at the white paper thrown randomly on the table. With typical hypocrisy they covered her frail body and smothered her enthusiasm, as the young woman screamed, The Moon shall not be explored.
(Translated by Andreea Georgiana Bogdan / 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.