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Cristina Cătălina Grecu, 27 years old, is participating in the 6th International Literary Creation Competition, from Bucharest, Romania. We are grateful for the participation and wish her success.

What have you done?

What have you done? 

Are you aware of the fact that
when you held me tightly 
you turned me into a river,
forever flowing under the sun?
You made me shiver…
you made me shiver.

What have you done? 

Did it ever cross your mind
that by touching me, on my skin you signed?
I am the paper, you are the golden pen —
please write something beautiful, 
not like other men…
not like other men. 

What have you done? 

For I find myself wondering at night
how would you feel if I’d 
grab your head and press your lips on mine?
Would you tremble under my love?
Please don’t lie…
please don’t lie.

What have you done? 

My love, it’s dangerous to desire someone this much.
I break and I heal under imaginary touch.
How something so wrong can feel so divine? 
Now I’m yours —
but are you mine?
Are you mine?


The Meadow

I left my body in my bed,
And I flew God knows where.
By the window, a flame was burning,
Slowly dancing, softly calling.
I can’t burn if I’m a shadow,
So I touched the light and woke up in the middle of a meadow.

Couldn’t step on the grass,
But somehow those tiny green blades — like shards of glass —
Swayed beneath me like I did.
I longed to touch them, but I had no feet.
Then I looked up and realized
That there was no “me” anymore — there was “us”.

I felt so confused, and yet so complete.
The transition happened so discreet.
I finally belonged in this world,
But not in the way I thought.
I no longer wished to touch the grass with my feet,
For I knew — I had turned into it.

No longer worker, no longer lover.
I can stay still now — no longer a runner.
Paid my debts and learned my lessons,
Loved with all my heart, gave up all my possessions.
I became the silence of the night and the warmth of the sun.
You can find me in your heart — for you are me, I am you, and we are one.


Dark Ink

You’ve got dark ink in your eyes 
And thin paper skin.
To write on you would not be wise, 
To stain you would be a sin —
For you are magic, and magic should remain untouched…

Oh! But I can’t help myself!
I crave to write on you!
Not beautiful dreams, but terrible nightmares,
Create a new disaster, or maybe two.
There’s beauty in the darkness, but it’s not meant… for fragile souls! 

You should be afraid, my love, 
In the process of creation, sometimes humans get hurt.
I’m putting my desire for art above 
the miracle of your existence and the fragileness of your heart.
You should not let me do such thing — run away! 

Oh!
This is the sadness of humanity:
We can’t preserve the magic we find.
We take something wonderful and transform it into a tragedy. 
Fire, smoke and rocks… is all we left behind.