July 1, 1981
The Rooms
Translated from Hungarian. Then the furniture was dragged out and it was plain how knotty the floor was, and marks of nails appeared. And you could see that the […]
July 1, 1981
Gratitude
Translated from Hungarian. The state holidays’ stillness that drives you crazy is no different from that on Catholic Sundays. In loitering crowds people are even harder to take than […]
July 1, 1981
Instead of a Flag
Translated from Hungarian. The one who says dear not only to girls— but to woman-maned landscape, black-ribbon wreathed houses, homeland farms. The one who can say my people, my […]
July 1, 1981
Onion Speaking
Translated from Hungarian. I’m simply skin all through, even when you slice crosswise, dice me cubewise. Make mincemeat of me! It’s still the nothing you’re cutting which I don’t […]
July 1, 1981
Every Day Something Different
Translated from Hungarian. It’s people like ourselves we seek, one at a time. People like ourselves simply don’t exist, I say. Like I was preparing to issue an order: […]
July 1, 1981
Three Young Hungarian Poets: An Introduction
The three young Hungarian poets I have translated here have created a new subject matter, sensibility, and tone. Yet their highly individualistic poetics looks outwards towards man’s problematical existence in […]
July 1, 1981
Ballad of When the Going’s Rough
Translated from Hungarian. Approved, the irregular going by regulations, approved, the permitting of disobedience, rubber-stamping each other, then the real carnival will be us: we’ll drop in, bringing festival to […]