The little girl that I was 
Publishing House Intact 1992

She’s small, she lives in a little village in northern Transylvania.
Delighted with the beauty of the nature, surprised by the actions of daily life, curious, full of joy and under the spell of little secrets, childhood friendships…

Short stories told by this little girl are the same for all children: dreams, naïve hopes And at the same time they are so special, impregnated by the discreet charm of living in the village located on the Somes River.

That humor and astonished gaze toward adult life, the discovery daily prevailing on these stories full of warmth.

A book on children who gave soaring children of yesterday and today with the illustrations of Taralunga Octavia.

      The voices of literary critics: 

“Such a book of stories for children (also included in the bibliography Romanian National school) can give the envy of reading and as a craftsman talented can build slowly in the being of children, the need for reading. “
Tudor Opris, 1998 

“The tales of Cleopatra Lorintiu trigger “state of mind”, the memory mixes unobtrusively with the dream and poetry, in an invitation to travel in the territories miracle of childhood. His tales are prove of life, they are dense, full of concrete in the lives of children, and express in a manner revealing the psychology of those who live this wonderful age.
The author is a connoisseur, she approaches the world with a childlike sense of great purity and with it brings us into this world a part.
Olimpiu Nusfelean, in the literary magazine Tribuna, 1987.

The writer happens to write narrativesm inventive and much nuanced. This is the case of a purely poetic story called “The Plum” in which a child wants a strong tree is still in its spring, full of flowers. That is an endless youth. These are texts touched by grace, but also the creation of characters, imaginative children or absurd humor.
Voicu Bugariu, Luceafarul Review, 1982
A story of the book “The little girl  that I was”  1992 

  Expedition in the neighborhood 

– You can not go to The Neighbor today because she…has guests.
I felt all of a sudden sadness me. How?
Be absent a full day from her home? The life seemed bleak.
But why? I asked in a small voice any sad.
– Because you are not dressed to go out. Look yourself in the mirror.
Your training is dirty. 
There are so many good things invented by adults, it’s true, there are discoveries made by them, there is the food, aircraft and toys, it’s true, but sometimes they have funny ideas I can not understand.
Look at this! Because of the training suit!
The situation is ridiculous!
But there can be had for solutions. In short, I started the negotiations.
– Is what I could put something else? The blue velvet dress, for example?
But Mom had a little work to do in the house: five baskets of laundry waiting to be done, cleaning carpets, after cleaning windows, put curtains, sweeping the court and feeding the chickens….
So admit she had a bit of work why she told me:
– Look , really I have not time for you today, I have not the time to dress you for for nor anything else, but you can stay here, play alone in the garden…
I made a little tour always thinking how I could escape…
You know what I think, “Dear Mommy, you would say that if I go a little before the guests arrive and when they knock at the door I’ll go away immediately and I ‘ll return to the house?…
Nobody will find!
Mom has ceded to my whims after giving him my word that nobody will see me in the clothes patched in red…

A white tablecloth, embroidered as dross, the large table covered peasant to the ground.

My plan was clear: when they knock at the front door, I was away from the veranda, slip through the fence to our ongoing…
True, I was particularly shaken by the emotion of adventure, looking at the same time the immense golden brioche on the table and my navy blue trousers patched red alert and all the noise around.

But guests were overdue. I started to nibble a little brioche looking embroidery on the walls…
I loved it represented a particularly a young girl who was wearing a pot on his head, a sheaf of wheat by hand. At the top of this was written” Be strong as a rock and never forgets your village!”
Very strong…
There was already too late when I realized that guests were at the door.
They dry their boots, they spoke loudly with a chuckle.
A deep fear me suddenly… at that moment I was ashamed of my trousers patched that nobody should see, and not be holding my promise that I had made to my mother…

I no longer had the choice they are going to see me, it’ll be a shame for my whole life!
It’s always when you do not complied with the good advice your mother…
At the last moment I found a saving idea.
At the entrance of the vast invited white tablecloth had a slight hesitation…
They sat around the table.
That seemed long second !….
I was curled up, holding my breath, tightness between the basket for basket pans and salt crumbly. Tables farmers in the North are like that: they are very large and have a shelf to the width of the hand above the ground. Here the lady of the house put the baskets for the salt and for the plates …
… And they talked, and they took a hearty meal, say, and they drank in their legs and prolong with a chuckle aloud.
I noticed their boots stained with mud, thinking to the clean carpet of our neighbor and to my sad destiny, to remain trapped under the table… an eternity! 

I heard the tinkling ranges, the rattle of glasses. The smell of soup beans to bacon and thyme surround me there, in the place of the cats…under the table…
I felt that I am there for days, weeks, I… legs numb… That was good to stay close to my mother, my home… And I was hungry! And what hunger! !
The guests already attacked the main dish: sausage and sour cabbage… I was frozen… a huge bunch approached me… I started crying …
– Do you have a little chat? … Asked a guest lifting the table cloth …
And they left me there, and they consoled me, and they look at the tears… but I did that in my patched pants and dirty…
How I was able to do it to my mother?

                          Stories for the children

 If the literary beginning of Cleopatra Lorintiu was marked by a story for children broadcast on radio in reading one of the greatest actors of Romania, Octavian Cotescu, the dean of the Academy of Theatre and Film Bucharest, passion for literature for children has been a constant of literature Cleopatra Lorintiu concerned about the fate of a literary genre sometimes despised. It launched in the press literary major investigations like Suplement SLAST which has received replies of the shares of major writers who have also written for children or she has published articles in the magazine “Steaua” and “Tribuna “(Cluj -Napoca) on this literary genre that was still in danger.
In most cases, censored or submitted to the constraints of ideology, literature for children can sometimes be read at several levels of reading. That is where the story: “News from Molidia,”ample fable of ‘era, with great characters in an allegorical style, published and republished, which was awarded the Writers Bucharest in 1984.
It is the writer Gica Iutes who had the courage to propose the award for Cleopatra Lorintiu and has published in the almanac of Bucharest (she headed at the time) the first fragment of history.
. 
In 1989 the only House Records of Romania at the time, (Electrecord) made five of its editing stories aired before in the reading of players on the national radio and an audio cassette.
The disc is named “Stories for children”

1. The Horologer
2. The Cold
3. Reconciliation
4.What to do!
5. Child single

with the participation of actors: Alexandrina Halic, Daniela Anencov, Virgil Ogasanu, Mihai Malaimare, Valeria Ogasanu, George Oprina, Ruxandra Sireteanu, Rodica Sanda Tutuianu, Ileana Serban, Boris Petrof, Paula Radulescu, Elena Nica Dumitrescu, Atena Demetriad, Stefan V elniciuc, Marina Velcescu, Victoria Mierlescu, J eanine Stavarache, Violeta Berbiuc. 
artistic director : Titel Constantinescu 
editor: Stefan Bonea;
graphic   cover: Zorina Baldescu.
Editions Electrecord. Romania.