I know I'm romantic, just as I know I don't know what to do, should I go or not, maybe it's better that it's dark, because no one can see me parading with the bouquet of flowers in my hand. My heart is pounding, my temples are throbbing painfully, should I sing to you, maybe not, a serenade under the balcony, how does it even start, I've forgotten the lyrics, even though I've been rehearsing them ten times a day for a month, I smile at the sight of your silhouette framed in the window, and then I see you kissing my friend, damn you, I should've just stayed home.
Adina Colțea
You didn't have a window, remember? So I gave you half of mine, so we could look at the same tree together, or so I thought. Later, you wanted the whole window for yourself. I gave it to you and learned to see the branches of my tree through your eyes. Then you cut the tree down, because you wanted to see the sky and the proud peaks on the horizon. I said nothing. Later still, you wanted the entire horizon to be yours, and you left. It's late at your window now, and you can hear the wood cracking from longing for the tree that once lived within it.
Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
Your child leaves home, you try to stop them, but they tell you they'll be fine, that all their friends are going. Then they rush out into the great winter, and you can't remember if they took their hat. You wait and wait. It's chaos on TV, so you turn it off in frustration, the night grows late, the moon rises like a skull. Groups of children pass in clusters down the street, but none of them are yours. A few wave a tattered flag, singing ole-ole. When the bullet shatters the window and lands, gleaming, on the floor, you know they're gone for good. Oh, if only it had pierced your heart.
(Translated by Andreea Sorana Oltean / 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.