It was chilly. God was walking around with that look
we never knew where it came from
it was not overwhelming our senses
not even as much as the evening light
the air had frozen, yet not all the way down to us
a flame was rustling at the resurrection end of a tomb
deserted by the living
let’s put the apple back together: you - your half, me - my half,
like two skies - those skies we live in-between,
one called earth
two at the apple core
(poem published in the volume "catacombe. aici totul e viu" ("catacombs. everything is alive here"), Vinea Publishing House, Bucharest, 2008, p. 60. English translation: Simona Sumanaru.)
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