He has a pleasant voice, plays the guitar, has founded the band, roams the whole country and has sweethearts everywhere. After the seaside, he came to the capital. Leisure tonight. He grabs a flower bouquet. He never brings her chocolate; she's a ballerina. He stops in front of the apartment block. There are two shadows looming at her window. They are embracing and kissing. He lets the bouquet fall, sits down on a bench and takes out the notebook. Under the dim light of the streetlamp, he begins to write: Late at night I see at your window a light and I don't know.
Daniela G. Pătrașcu
I honestly didn't plan on bothering you. Maybe if I had your phone number, I would not have put clothes on at that hour, on that snowstorm, to come to your window. I would have called you and told you that your husband, trying to jump over the fence, because he could not find the door, fell in the snow with the bottle in his hand and some stray dogs were licking his chops. Believe me that I would not have woken you up if he was leaning on the fence. I would have put a carrot in his mouth and by morning would have looked completely like a snowman, but I could not pick him up.
Titela Durnea
I like looking at you. You don't know, but in the afternoon, I climb a tree, I choose the branch closest to your window and look at you. I don't stop at your slim ankle, nor at your foal-like thigh, not even at your round breasts, stones on which my desires are listed. Because you are more than that. From the outside you can always see it differently. In its entirety. My eye dilates, along with the air. I see you dreaming, loving, living, dying and coming back to life every morning in the light. Last night, for the first time, you noticed me too, in the shard of the mirror.
(Translated by Ana Maria Mitruș / 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.