Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
I remember. A moment outside of time, before my being took on weight. I was pure light, floating between worlds. Two spheres appeared before me-one blue, pulsing with life; the other foreign, with a liquid sky and shifting shadows. A voiceless voice whispered: choose. Earth pulsed like a heart. I touched it with my mind and felt the wind, the oceans, the calling. I chose. And I fell into flesh, forgetting. But now I remember. And I'm not afraid anymore. Not even of death. Because now I know it.
Paul Dârvariu
I've told you before: in Botoșani, the girls would give mărțișoare[1] to the boys, hand-stitched by their own hands. I liked the ones with personalized messages. Like this one, for example, which Liuba, my deskmate, pinned to my chest. You can't understand what it says, because you don't know Russian. It says Я люблю тебя, Памфил, which means I love you, Pamfil. Oh, darling, I'm sorry I forgot. I forgive you, Wallflower. I'll even take you to bed without the mărțișor. I only ask for you to put on the red panties and the white shirt I gave you for Christmas.
Alex Micu
He lightly tapped them on the shoulder. During the break, he handed out chimney sweeps and ladybugs to the workers. To the office ladies, he gave small plastic snowdrops. From above, on the walkway, he looked down fondly at the seamstresses. He admired the quick rhythm of the sewing machines and the women working behind them. They were like daughters to him. The accountant handed him a paper. What's this? The expenses for the mărțișoare and snowdrops, sir. Aha, he said, peering over his glasses at the sheet. Cut 50 lei[1] from their salaries this month.
(Translated by Briana Guriță / 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.