"The Insight" by Ioana Nicolaie translated by Clara Burghelea

I wasn’t a girl back then. I was wearing nylon dresses with clay sleeves. I was wearing heels and bracelets made of muddy pretzels. Back then, only mothers delivered babies.

I wasn’t a girl back then. The zipper of the days pulled up smoothly to the chest. I wrapped my hips in plaid evenings. Sadness grew clearly, its cogs screeching.

Mothers were anthills and we could have taken shelter. I would surprisingly put on their raincoats as big as a house.

And then, suddenly tall, I entered the pantry. The cement had turned into a peanut between my teeth. Crew socks, tanned arms. I was see-through in the window pane. And realized that no, there was no way out.

There, I had, unwillingly, turned into a drawer in the pantry. Thoughts made of button, spools of thread, and needles. Lining to the dress worn by so many mothers.

Sooner or later, the tummy betrays you. Suddenly, sweat becomes many layers of tongs.

Sparrows are stones, and you, a grain.

I had gone numb with fear. I was going numb.

I was not a girl back then. I would scratch metal without choosing. I was slowly growing, turning into a ball, a man’s suit. EVENTUALLY MY PELVIS WILL CRACK OPEN,TOO.... Drowsy from fear, I could not get it. Time, heavy-eyed on the rack or in coats.... And I barely was…

Înțelegerea

Pe-atunci nu eram fată. Purtam rochițe sintetice cu mîneci de tină. Purtam tocuri și brățări din covrigi noroioși. Pe-atunci doar mamele aduceau pe lume copii.

Pe-atunci nu eram fată. Fermoarul zilelor se-nchidea neted la piept. Șoldurile mi le-nveleam în seri ecosez. Tristețile creșteau limpezi, scîrțîind de rotițe.

Mamele erau mușuroaie și-am fi putut să ne ascundem. Mă îmbrăcam mirată în pardesiele lor cît zece războaie.

Și-atunci, brusc înaltă, am intrat în cămară. Cimentul se făcuse o alună-ntre dinți. Ciorapii trei sferturi, brațele arse de soare. Mă vedeam transparentă-n ochiul de geam. Și-am înțeles că nu, nu am scăpare.

Fără voie, ajunsesem, iată, un sertar din cămară. Cu gînduri din nasturi, papiote și ace. Căptușită-n rochia de-atîtea mame purtată.

Odată și-odată abdomenul trădează. Brusc sudoarea-i mai multe rînduri de clești.

Vrăbiile-s pietre, și tu, un grăunte.

Înțepenisem de spaimă. Înțepeneam. Pe-atunci nu eram fată. Zgîriam în metal fără s-aleg. Încetul cu încetul creșteam, mă făceam cît o minge, cît un costum de bărbat. ÎNTR-UN TÎRZIU ȘI  PELVISUL MEU VA CRĂPA... Toropită de spaimă, nu pricepeam. Vremea mai dormita-n cuier și paltoane... Și-abia mai eram...

Ioana Nicolae is the Romanian author of seven novels and five poetry collections and has been nominated for important awards such as PEN and the Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz Prize. Her works was translated into German, Swedish, Bulgarian, and Serbian, included in various anthologies such as Poésie 2003: Roumanie, territoire d’Orphée, New European Poets, and An Anthology of Contemporary Romanian Poetry. Her latest collection is the sky from the pregnant belly (Editura Paralela 45, 2025).

Clara Burghelea is the author of two poetry collections: The Flavor of The Other (Dos Madres Press 2020) and Praise the Unburied (Chaffinch Press 2021). Her first poetry collection in translation, The Clear Sky, appeared in 2025 (Dos Madres Press).