October

Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
She stood on a street corner. She was selling jars of jam. She had appeared with the falling leaves. No one knew who she was. The young man staggered toward her. He asked for a jar. Then, laughing, he smacked the hand that offered it. He kicked the rest with his foot, shattering them on the ground. He spat on her wrinkled cheek. He shoved her onto the shards and took the money from her pockets. You don't need it, old hag. She stood up. There were glass splinters in her palms. She heard the screech of a brake. The money flew through the air. Forgive him, Father, for he didn't know what he was doing. She headed home. A cat and a quince waited for her.
 
 Dorin Vasile
When he became the president of the district, his father got involved with the head of personnel. He abandoned his wife and his two kids. The eldest told me the story. Every day, on the way to school, he walks through the forest at the edge of the village. He mixes red leaves under his steps, carried by the autumn wind. Beside him there's another being, barely felt, whispering constantly that good is evil. Once he freed a white bird, stuck in a thorn bush. It will return on the angel's day, the second day of the month, to show him the path of dichotomy.
 
 George Dometi
I wonder what your kiss feels like. I have a fever from the scorpion's bite. Only the smell of your hair makes me forget about all of these. I'm dying, yet I'd rather be carried in your arms. I know I'm hallucinating, the delirium of death. But it is love. I fell in love. And I don't even know who you are. My throat is swollen. I'm suffocating. I don't care. I love you, in whispers, in silence, in secret. I want to tell you that I am a virgin. But I want to change that with you. I want you to save me and for us to roll in the mud until the autumn's dusk.

(Translated by Maria-Ilinca Darie / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)