I woke up like Moses in the midst of the sea. With my right hand, I was holding the towering wave that is life, and with my left, death. I don't know for how long the saint laboured, but my thoughts ached as if I were holding the sky on my head. I could have turned my back on death and supported life with both arms, but I knew I'd be struck when I least expected it. I could have turned my back on life and held up death, but I knew what miracle I would miss. So, I folded my arms across my chest and remained an ordinary man.
Alex Caragian
he shouted at the one who seemed to have the situation under control - a stern old tyrant, dressed soberly, laughing under his Machiavellian beard. Ha, you really don't remember, do you? he said, with the gaze of a despot who knows more than you'd like and judges you for things you wished were forgotten. That's how life is - sometimes it lets you down, other times it may lift you up. Let's just say this time it didn't lift you up. What was he doing in this box? he flung his hands wildly against the walls, spinning around, much to the amusement of his more mischievous friend. The elevator doors suddenly opened.
Horațiu Dudău
I waited for a bit, the light was red, then I crossed. Lost a bit of time, the rain was pouring like madness. It was GB Street. Luckily, there was that dark bar where I dried off a little. From there, I took off quickly by foot, because in March rain can sprout at any moment, and I turned down this street by chance. Beautiful street, NS - I would have lingered longer, but I kept imagining you. You, hidden from me, and I, unsaid to anyone. I left the night behind to the world, to mock me and call out your name. And that's how I ended up on this bench, where I sit and await your calling.
(Translated by Marian-Cătălin Niculăescu / 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.