They were speeding down the highway when suddenly the sky cracked open in front of them-pop, it went-and they drove through the split and began to fly. It kept getting colder, but it felt good; they were tired of all that heat. They could see, as if in real life, how things were falling to the ground behind their backs: the yellow suitcase with the broken zipper, the bag with the flip-flops, the sack of apples, the toys, and look, there's Ana's unicorn. Paul, turn around, Ana's gone, she's nowhere. Park there, on the corner of the Moon. From here, we can see her, look, she's at the window. Wave to her. We're here, sweetheart, don't cry.
Ana-Maria Butuza
I live on the Milky Way Street, number 14th. I go to work with Uncle Pulsar's Andromeda Rocket. On the way, we stop at Nebula Orion's bar, Ogre Star, where Lyra the Comet awaits us with a cosmic coffee. At work, I'm an expert in stellar studies at the Galactic Observatory, and in the evening I come home with the Sirius Shuttle. From my bed, through the ceiling's porthole, I watch you every night: alluring, cold, and distant. I search for peace in your deepest crater, but I always wake up thirsty for blood.
Horațiu Dudău
I pound at you with my fists as if I would at a coffin lid. I suffocate, not knowing how to feel alive. The Moon grabs me and pulls me upward through your fire. Those who once burned within you are still lying there, asking forgiveness for not knowing what they were doing. Visions lead me to a child shoeing four horses, urging the riders to finish their incense tea. I take him by the hand and lead him home, to the Moon. In my quiet chaos, we wait for you. The Moon is the kiss I left on the sky, and death is just a kiss away. I pound at everything.
(Translated by Constantin Grigorescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by prof. dr. Nadina Vișan / Edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.