Through a Cat's Eyes

Răzvan Dițescu
When I was little, I woke up between two dumpsters. People throw a lot of things there. Food, and cats too. My brothers died quickly, but I survived. I learned to search and steal. A dog caught me once. I've had this dead white eye ever since. But what's dead can't hurt anymore. One night, I saw the light. A warm flicker. Always on, always there. I climbed on the windowsill. Beyond the glass, a boy was looking at me. I looked back at him. Then, he opened the window to let me in. From that night on, we were no longer alone in the world.
 
 Tibor Szente
I can see her through half-closed eyelids, in the morning, when the hands of the clock align perfectly, one pointing down, the other one up. Her shape is much like mine, hidden behind a thin layer of transparent fabric in the colour of a clear winter sky. She rises leisurely from her covers and goes to brush her pearly white teeth. I think she's beautiful. She's been mine for five winters. She brushes me, feeds me, caresses me. It's good to have such an obedient and understanding creature. She calls me Coquette.
 
 Sanda Burță
I can feel her from the moment she enters the block. She smells of sadness from miles away. She unlocks the door and sighs. She wearily takes off her shoes and leaves them right in the middle of the hallway, where I relieved myself three days ago, hoping she'd step into the puddle, wake up to reality and do something for God's sake, curse, throw me out in the street, anything. Since that guy left, to move on with his life, apparently, she has died a little more every day. I pull out his holey sock from under the bed. See? That's what he is, a hollow man. She doesn't get it. She hugs me and cries. I'll pee on the sock next time, maybe I'll make myself clear that way.

 
(Translated by Mara Scoroșanu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)