mopete went to the theatre today. he took
a girl, and vasilescu’s father’s friend saw him—called hello
to him, too—mopete threw a meaningful, if too
obvious glance at the girl beside him, and with a fixed look
walked right by. the play proved to be of great interest.
the girl at mopete’s side—she wasn’t young nefa—listened
totally absorbed. mopete said to himself—now he’ll have turned
round to look at you—and put on an earnest
expression. he pretended to be engrossed by the play. then a
while later, the girl cocked her head and spied
upon mopete, as if with wonderment (how shrewd
these girls are, mopete told himself). like an antenna
in a raised position, mopete strove to hear everything the girl thought
as she sat beside him. vasilescu’s father’s friend laughed.
Next: Read the poet’s holiday pleasures