3rd Edition
I
June 26, 2026, Londohome, Pen Romania Civic Festival, third edition. The first part of this edition was dedicated to several Ukrainian writers whose works have been translated into Romanian: Victoria Amelina, Oksana Stomina, Victoria & Pavlo Matiușa, and 12 other Ukrainian short-story authors. Also the book of the Columbian writer Hector Abad Faciolince about Victoria Amelina’s death. The presenters were: Miruna Vlada, Ruxandra Cesereanu, Mihai Vacariu, and Radu Vancu.
II
The second part of the Pen Romania Civic Festival (third edition) was dedicated to a poetry marathon, moderated by Cosmin Perța. The poets were: Daniela Crăsnaru, Mina Decu, Nichita Danilov, Iustin Butnariuc, and Florin Balotescu. High-quality confessional poetry, featuring poets with diverse styles, ideas, and from different generations. Exactly what was needed to bring contemporary Romanian poetry to the forefront. At the end, poems dedicated to Ukraine were read, as well as by four of the organizers: Radu Vancu, Cosmin Perța, Miruna Vlada, and Ruxandra Cesereanu.
Daniela CRĂSNARU
The Last Day of Pompeii
In the entrails of the sacrificed birds,
in the volcano’s hieroglyphics of smoke,
the word extinction could have been divined.
The inhabitants of Pompeii were forewarned.
Not one of them would believe it.
I know – I believe: This embrace
Could be the last.
No, it’s not the fear invading my cells
but my nausea before this army of jaded tourists
photographing the petrified lava,
pain’s grimace, a sort of commerce with death
from which just that, death, is missing.
The ashes, behind which
are only
ashes.
The words, behind which –
other words.
Translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Daniela Crăsnaru
Nichita DANILOV
The Twentieth Century
I was born when God had not yet been born
and I died when God
was already dead!
The twentieth century was nearing its end.
Márquez had written One Hundred Years of Solitude,
Nietzsche, Thus Spake Zarathustra.
Man had left footprints on the moon,
dead angels were plummeting down from heaven.
On the horizon a Third World War
intruded upon my sight. Einstein had died
and God was already dead!
The end of one world was approaching its end
and there began the beginning of the one man
no one believed in any longer.
An ever bleaker wind blew through the streets,
vultures wheeled in alarming circles in the sky.
A deeper and deeper funeral knell
heralded a new beginning.
Hallelujah!
Translated by Adam J. Sorkin and Rodica Albu
Mina DECU
6. once upon a time there were two Chinese in a restaurant
she small and fragile as parchment
he small and stocky like a fish from an unknown species
they ate without looking each other in the eye
every now and then one of them let out a faint gasp
as though the food’s journey to the stomach required work
neither of them drank water
no glass could be found on their table
the deft movement of the chopsticks suggested nothing but hunger
when rolled over and brought into the present
the last piece of food was lifted to a mouth
the Chinese carefully wiped their mouths with a napkin
out of nowhere a waiter appeared
without an exchange of courtesies the bill was paid
they stood up in a single movement and left
once upon a time two Chinese ate in a restaurant
it is said they loved each other
Iustin BUTNARIUC
65 Roses
(To Ricky Weiss and to all the children
suffering from cystic fibrosis)
When father put the rifle in my hand,
I thought he was just joking around.
He said, “Son, shoot that bird down for me.”
I loaded it, aimed, and fired with a sound.
Mother waited at home with apple pie,
Desperately reaching out to our kin
About the illness that had taken hold of me,
Little did I know the ingredients within.
(I grabbed a slice with both hands,
And eagerly took a bite.)
Through days and nights of hospital stays,
My parents followed the doctors’ advice,
Overwhelmed and exhausted, they worked in shifts,
Bringing necessary medications.
They even mortgaged our house,
Our humble little house in the clearing.
Grandmother sold her gold teeth to buy me enzymes.
One day, mother was begging on the phone,
Calling different associations,
Saying my name like a housewife
Throwing lye in a whirlpool.
Humbly, she spoke the name of the disease,
And then my name,
Bound for eternity,
Cystic fibrosis, 65 Roses.
And father stuffed the bird as a memory.
Translated by Ema Dumitru
Florin BALOTESCU
Endemic instants (I)
This is the last life in the row
This is revealed in the cell behaviour
Endemic instants (III)
We would have enjoyed being letters, signs, ideograms
As we looked for our body on every occasion, all circumstance, each event
Our own language could no longer provide us with a body
The foreign language was a new skin
It was our salvation in front of the eternal exfoliation
On the boulevard ignited by salacious whispers by assassin footsteps
two creatures wandered about chocked by lace and perfume
Perhaps they were the Infinite and the Entropy
perhaps it was just the garbage stench in the heart of the city
we watched dizzily
between the lands and the seas children slowly withered
they dreamt about pillows and chocolate
Endemic instants (IV)
one night in June
the only tranquillity was that of two people sleeping
they were not ready to be old
my gaze flowed upon them
their nocturnal breathing was the ultimate happiness
Translated by Florin Balotescu
