"Mihai, my old friend,

What on earth could possibly be so great about that Bucharest that made you completely forget our God-forsaken Iasi, so crowded with Jews?

Bachelor life might be a great thing there. However, it is not right for you to abandon us to dark oblivion.

Veronica dropped by today and confessed me that you keep on treating her the same as you do me. Why? Where did we go wrong with you? Anyway, we are looking forward to seeing you over Christmas.

Tinca has already prepared everything we need for the occasion and especially "forcemeat rolls of cabbage" that you used to like so much.

You know, foolish me, I have started writing a comedy (dear Lord!). I really have no idea about the time I might finish it. All I know is that I simply copy the subject of the play (as you know so well, I am able only to copy things). The plot is inspired by my life in the slums where I have been living since I left my village, Humulesti.

I met our old "brother" Conta.

Since last night it has been snowing over Iasi, so the road is fit for travelling by sledge, Ciric Lake somehow seems more beautiful now.

Come over, brother Mihai, for I really feel like a stranger in this place.

I kiss your dear forehead,
Ion Creanga"

(Translated by Junona Tutunea)

(back to Letters)
HomeLiterary workBibliographyCritiquesTestimoniesBiography