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I Was Playing Belote

I was playing belote – ancient surrealism heralding as its ultimatevalues the nine and the Jack, nobody knows why, some poets claim this is an idea meant to consecrate the troubadour and the portal he passes under at night – I waspeacefully playing one evening in a house

Orbitor - The Left Wing

excerpt Maria had come to town during the war, leaving her native Tântava, and managed to find a job as apprentice for Verona Tailor's Shop, along with her sister Vasilica. The tailor's shop was located behind ARO building, stuck right on the white painted house,

The Dacian Allurement

excerpt  Never have I felt more keenly all that separates us from the West than in a summer afternoon spent in the Versailles gardens. In the park full of Greek memories: Apollo's Pool, that of Latona, in which the superposed arrangement of the gardens that mount towards

Idle Hours

In the olden times, in the Year of Our Lord 1937, as soon as the vernal wind had started wafting, I would cross the Danube with a handful of companions, to hail the passage of woodcocks in some of the parts of the Dobrudja. We reposed in propitious places, groves and copses,

The Wedding Book

excerpt Only when, after three hours, Jim breathed the salty air of Constanţa did he regain his self-possession. Medy let them walk through the city and went to prepare the home reception. They took a round in front of Ovid's statue, who looked at them pensively,

The Procrustean Bed

excerpt Between 9. 30 and 10. 30 in the evening, all the other restaurants were empty, but the Popovici Garden was packed, they put more tables in every corner, and when even that was no longer possible, friends asked those who had arrived earlier to let them sit at their

Masked Ball

excerpts The formulae that announced guests to the Danielescus' meals were varied, appropriate to the guests. For example:Tonight you're laying one more cover, told only to the maid a few moments before dinner by Mrs. Danielescu, meant that the same oilcloth was

Victory Street

The dancing tea partyGuţă Mereuţă was indeed waiting, sad, with a proboscidean long nose. He couldn't dance. He had nothing in appearance or in speech that could have attracted a woman. His eyes pushed aside, towards the temples, by the broad root of the olfactory

Ciuleandra

excerpt Finally, one Sunday the old man decided that we should drive to the estate belonging to an uncle of mine in Arges, to Manesti, and spend three-odd days there. We had to leave early, so as to get there by noon. But since the old man had some kind of unexpected business,

At Grandiflora

excerpt In the town square, behind Gustav Café, there is the variety entertainment ale-house with the strange name Bucharest Hotel (it has room only for women-artists), Mr. Cocoşel's winter public house. Ancient house, rather long and low, the hotel twinkles its

A Bohemian

I once saw a wounded crane, dying, on the edge of a forest where he had fallen while his friends were dashing away to the horizon, like a black arrow. The bright eye that ripped the horizon was shaded little by little, his long, powerful legs were sinking into the dust,

On Mountain Paths

excerpt THE WAY TO PIPIRIG Half an hour later we had taken up lodgings in father Ionica's house in PipirigValley. I ignore why, but as I lay on a bed of freshly cut, fragrant grass and watched the stars that were beginning to come out in the clear evening sky, my