I lean in to kiss her. I'm cocking my neck like a thirsty flamingo, my arched back accompanying me. I push myself to reach her. Help me, my dear, come toward me. Soft, naked, and a bit coy, she's showing me the rosy contour. A flame's flickering idly within, just enough to embolden me. We're close, I purse my lips, I squint my eyes, and then he appears. I catch her in my hands, I try to hold her, but she trickles through my fingers and starts blending with his man-heart down on the asphalt. I get to shout: the story says that you first have to love yourself.
Tina Dublea
Today, we're celebrating the victory again. Ciprian Porumbescu can croak, and so can his ballad. When it comes to football and politics, we're all experts. Well, we're experts in financial education, too, so poor in spirit we are, but no, I see no change, not in myself, not in the people around me, why am I (are you) even enquiring? Poor little us, if only we hadn't been expecting so many expectations, maybe we wouldn't suffer like dogs waiting to get their jab - may our flesh rattle like startled cattle - and if we knew when the cup rennet over, and if our spirits weren't down in the cement. Amen.
David Brescan
I'm running around the yard, the hens disperse in every direction, clucking, I go past the well, whoosh, a slipper flies past my ear and lands in the water bucket, I hear a damn you, I head toward Rex's doghouse, Rex jumps up to play, I evade him and go right, Mommy trips on his chain, Rex gets excited and starts barking, whoosh, there comes the second slipper, I go through two fence boards, I'm on the street, I'm free. The road is all mine, the world is mine, too. We'll see when you get hungry and come running home, I'll get may hands on you.
(Translated by Francisc Csiki / 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.