Complicity

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In the apartment next door, a happy stepfather tortures some children, when he is not busy with another hobby.
You can’t pretend not to hear the neighbors’ scandal, even if you are watching an exciting TV series or playing on the computer.
It would seem that in order to knock on the neighbors’ door, everyone is waiting to hear on the TV that today there is uncensored bad news from the next room!
That’s good, though. It would be worse if your favorite influencer convinced you that it is normal for children to be starved, tortured or slaughtered somewhere, because there are too many mouths on the planet!

Now your apartment is once again echoing with the cries of the innocents and their mother, but you remain silent, your attention fixed on the screen.
Caught in your own imagination, it’s easier for you to ignore the suffering of your neighbors or rationalize the cruelty as explicable.
After all, what can one person do against the weight of so many mute people, let alone the indifference of the masses to everything?
But the news will come someday, a harsh reminder of the tragedy you chose to ignore through happy complicity.
Your comfort, your amusement, your desire to avoid confrontation cannot last forever.
At what cost? The children next door, their lives torn apart, their unanswered screams, our human future tarnished.

You tell yourself that it’s none of your business, that you have no obligation to intervene, to argue with a madman.
However, the sound of their pain pierces the walls, an eternal reproach for your blissful drowsiness.
How long can you sit idly by, pretending that you neither hear the screams nor have you seen films about the horrors of human bestial history?
The weight of your inaction grows with each passing day, a burden on your numb conscience.
It would seem that, in order to protest, everyone is waiting to hear on television that today uncensored bad news is coming from so close, from a few steps away.
You tell yourself that you are powerless, that a single voice cannot make a difference in such darkness of silence.

Wake up! The apartment next door, a place of unimaginable cruelty, will haunt your serenity tomorrow.
You will not be able to ignore the cries for help, whose drill pierces the thin walls of the happy complicity.
It is time to step forward, to be the voice of the deprived, to stand firm against the darkness and the silence.
Because, in the end, the true measure of a man is not what he gnaws like a mouse in front of the monitor, but what he chooses to do.
The choice is yours, to remain silent and complicit, or to raise your voice so that the other silent neighbors can hear you.
The dying people in the apartment next to you are just waiting for your decision, because they could have been your own children.

La apa Moselei, privind spre satul Schengen, acolo șezum și plânsem

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Mai întâi s-a speriat de româneasca invazie influencerul Nigel Farage.
Dunăre de mânie, a fugit luând cu el și UK din UE.
Apoi, nu ne-a mai vrut pe noi și pe bulgari Rutte al Olandei, 
negândind că slăbește flancul sudic al viitorului NATO, încurajând pe Putin
să privească spre Veneția peste Chișinău, București și Belgrad.
 
Dar cel mai speriat de bulgari și români fu Nehammer al Austriei,
convins că dacă nu face pe scenă gestul de a zice Niet,
atunci pierde alegerile și nu va mai fi niciodată Cancelar.

De fapt, scriitorii noștri Gospodinov și Cărtărescu oricum circulau,
mai mult clasa muncitoare aștepta în vamă cu TIR-ul sau Dacia,
copii veniți cu daruri la părinți de Sărbători, din An în Paști.

Ci furișându-se Armata Roșie a Rusiei mai aproape de Odessa în Ucraina,
printr-un război de judecat la standardele umanismului secolului XXI,
neprimirea în Schengen a balcanicilor producea euroscepticism.
Și abia atunci ni s-au deschis porțile, când nu mai speram!

Acum bulgarii și românii sunt europeni deplini, fie și cam târziu.
Ei pot sta oricând pe malul Moselei, ascultând Boney M
By the rivers of Babylon/ There we sat down/ Yeah, we wept,
dar fără să danseze, îmbufnați ca poetul îndrăgostit care și-a cucerit muza
abia după ce  s-a măritat cu altul și a divorțat, fiind ea după zece ani, liberă.
At the Moselle River, looking towards the Schengen village, there we sat down and wept

First, the influencer Nigel Farage was scared of the Romanian invasion.
Danube in anger, he fled, taking the UK with him from the EU. 
Then, Rutte of the Netherlands did not want us and the Bulgarians anymore,
not thinking that he was weakening the southern flank of the future NATO,
encouraging Putin to look towards Venice over Chișinău, Bucharest and Belgrade.
 
But the one who was most scared of the Bulgarians and Romanians was
Nehammer of Austria,
convinced that if he did not make the gesture of saying Niet on stage
then he would lose the elections and would never be Chancellor again.

In fact, our writers Gospodinov and Cărtărescu were circulating anyway,
more the working class was waiting at customs with the TIR or the Dacia,
children who came with gifts to their parents for the Holidays, not always.

But as the Russian Red Army crept closer to Odessa in Ukraine,
through a war to be judged by the standards of 21st century humanism,
the non-admission of the Balkans to Schengen produced Euroscepticism.
And only then did the gates open for us, when we had no more hope!

Now Bulgarians and Romanians are full Europeans, even a little late.
They can always sit on the banks of the Moselle, listening to Boney M
By the rivers of Babylon/ There we sat down/ Yeah, we wept,
but without dancing, gloomy like the poet in love who conquered his muse
only after he married another and divorced her, being free after ten years.
.

In a meadow where the wind swayed free…

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In a meadow where the wind swayed free,
Lived three friends—quite different, you see.
A sheep so gentle, wool so bright,
A goat who climbed with stubborn might,
And a pig who dreamed of fields untamed,
Together faced a choice unnamed.

The bear stood strong, his voice was deep,
Promised safety, vowed to keep
The forest calm, the rivers clear,
Yet his strength brought quiet fear.

The wolf was sharp, his words like steel,
He spoke of cunning, change, and zeal.
He said, “The strong will take their place,”
But left behind a ruthless trace.

The tiger prowled with regal air,
Golden eyes that dared them stare.
“Through power, pride, and endless fight,
We’ll rule with glory, fierce and bright.”

The sheep stepped forth, “I long for peace,
A world where fear and fights will cease.”
The goat said, “But we must be wise,
A leader’s might should match the prize.”
The pig then sighed, “Through all this din,
Who rules should serve, not just win.”

Their voices rose, they cast their say,
Hoping for a brighter day.
Yet who they chose, none quite could tell,
For power and peace must balance well.

/// Written with the help of Bing Microsoft Copilot.