Come back to our tiny little station[1], Nae the lineman hums, vigorously rubbing the level crossing lights clean. Tonight, there's one more freight train passing by, five commuters on bikes and Zicu with the tractor. Other than that, he has plenty of time to make his chicken stew and doze off by the speaker. At eight o'clock, he duly puts his uniform on and turns the handle of the barrier industriously. He can hear that wreck of a train rattling on the tracks and see its lights and the fiercely driven locomotive. His cap falls off as he stares, together with the others, at the carriages blocking their view of the moon as they emerge from the purple clouds.
[1]The first line of a famous Romanian song with the same name, Hai, vino iar în gara noastră mică by Gabriel Dorobanțu
Caterina Tudorache
Are you waiting for the train, too? It seemed logical, given that I was there, at the station, carrying two big suitcases with me. I nodded and continued to read the news on the Internet. Do you know if it's delayed? I shrugged, looking up at the indicator board above, which showed that the train would arrive on time. Do you have a cigarette? I shook my head, eyes still on the phone. He kept fidgeting around for a while. Do you know who I am? I smiled awkwardly and got up from the bench. The old man sighed, staring blankly into the distance. A little girl came and sat down with her mother. Are you waiting for the train, too?
Lucian Pătru
The shelter full of flowers, in the sycamores' shade, buzzed with restless murmurs coming from pensive minds afraid. Camels and pilgrims, merchants with riches shining bright were queuing, deeply troubled, to seek a way out of their plight. Lurking slowly, circling them, the cruel sphinx wanted to hear answers to his riddles drear. And as their time went by, they were left out of supply, growing weaker by the day, dropping dead right in its way, with their bellies empty, thus having lost the fight, by the dunes' great ridges, where day turns into night. But then, the wind, with cunning tricks began to shift its course, and with it, the desert's sands swept onward with full force, leaving both sphinx and travellers behind to fade into the echoes of a tale as old as time.
(Translated by Mara Scoroșanu / 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.