His mother was beautiful. And she knew how to love. The women hated her. One night, they shaved her head. They chased them out of the village. Into exile. She asked her, is it because of him, because he's born out of wedlock? No, child, you were born from watermelons, actually, from their flowers. From a hidden, condemned love, for which we paid dearly. Years passed. The village grew old. The watermelons rot on the uncultivated land. A man started buying land. All that had been cultivated with watermelons. They asked him why. He answered briefly, I'm redeeming my mother.
Dan Banu
He was a little brunet boy like a piece of chocolate, small and spry like a flea. He lived with his brothers in a slice of watermelon until the day a greedy man took a bite out of it. Then Pepiniță fell into a cave in a molar and got stuck. No matter the high waves, the sharp spikes. Eventually, the large drills dug into the molar like an auger, and Pepiniță was freed. He left the Mouth and arrived in the Stomach, where he lived happily with his own until old age.
Ana-Maria Butuza
The old people took me in as a servant when I was little, without pay, just beatings and scraps of food. One day, I found a lot of hidden money under their mattress. It was watermelon season, so I made a small hole in one of them, just big enough for my hand, and scooped out the heart until it reached the rind. I wrapped the money in a bag and stuffed it deep inside the watermelon, without any remorse. When I told them I was leaving, they started laughing. I see you've taken your payment, said the old woman, looking at the watermelon. Is one enough for you? asked the old man, laughing, not knowing what filling was hidden inside.
(Translated by Miruna Baicu / 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.