Right when the Sun started rising, the beautiful Eleftheria would step out into the garden. She wouldn't say a word, she'd just watch in fascination as it spread its life-giving light over the earth. After sunset, when the night shadows began their loony dance, she would enter her chambers and fall asleep dreaming of being bathed in the rays' light. Many a brave man sought to charm her. In vain, she had eyes only for the divine lover. She died a maiden, and from her grave grew a flower, then another and another, until the garden was filled with yellow flowers in love with the Sun.
Arthur Ianoși
They took him down from the cross and laid him on the shore, facing east, to be swallowed by the waves at the first tide, and to be carried back to where he came from. He died with his eyes open, and the blue, which had been clear the day before, turned a dull gray, like portals through which one can no longer enter. The whole of Salem was in mourning, a bunch of Puritan fishermen, unable to accept that the magic of the Pacific had changed Roger. As the sun revealed its first rays, the wizard's eyes lit up like a pair of embers, and Roger rose to his feet. I forgive you.
Lucian Pătru
He did nothing but heal everything he touched. But that was more out of carelessness, like the pinching of the earlobe or some other tiny gesture. He would, amid the colours, accompany butterflies, and place them on flowers. A plethora of beginnings that once touched turned into green vapours swarmed around him. Every breeze caught his words and melted them diligently where a cloud happened to be, chasing it away. Then he would take the sun out of his pocket, press it to his eyes and whistle. And the world, an opal beast, kept pretending he didn't exist.
(Translated by Oana-Elena Dragnea / 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.