Hungarian poems in English - only ones that had been translated.

[Kati Svaby]

I CANNOT COME TO YOU

Is summer nigh?

Each fool has his summer over here,

and I shall die.

Do you protest?

You are my great love, sacred madness,

and I shall die.

Oh songs, oh songs -

Others will go on with will and pleasure

and I shall die.

Caressing arms, perhaps you yearn for me no longer, and I shall die.

My path, my fate - All my life has grown sad and awkward. And I shall die.
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

BECKONING

Time for rest. Oh my bed,

oh my bed, recently,

recently you were a

different world: dream castle,

dream castle, well of strength,

well of strength, cave of love,

cave of love, peak of joy,

peak of joy. What have you

turned into? My coffin,

my coffin. Every night,

every night you hold me

still tighter. Thus I rest,

thus I rest held in fear,

held in fear now I rise,

now I rise held in fear,

held in fear do I rise.

Now I rise, look about,

look about, feel my world,

feel my world, meditate,

meditate, comprehend,

comprehend, take cover,

take cover, peer out and,

peer out and rise up and

rise up with iron will,

iron will, saddened soul,

saddened soul, dogged mind,

dogged mind, sagging will,

sagging will, shameful self,

shameful self. Oh my bed,

oh my bed, my coffin, my coffin beckoning,

beckoning. Time for rest.
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

AUTUMN PRAYER

Autumn midday, autumn midday --

Oh, how hard to

laugh and lightly mock the maidens.

Autumn midnight, autumn midnight --

Oh, how hard to

raise one's sight and soul to heaven.

Autumn midnight, autumn midday --

Oh how good to

cry and cry and kneel in prayer.
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

I Should Love to Be Loved, By Endre Ady
Translation by Eli Siegel

(From a French Translation of Endre Ady's Hungarian lyric in Les Cinq Continents, ed. Goll. Translators: Sandor Eckhardt and Zoltan Baranyi. This is a poem exemplifying Aesthetic Realism.)



I am neither infant nor happy grandfather
Nor parent, nor lover
Of anyone, of anyone.
I am, as every man is, Majesty,
The North Pole, the Secret, the Stranger,
The will-o'-the-wisp in the distance, the will-o'-the-wisp in the distance.
But alas! I cannot remain this way.
I should like to show myself to the world,
So that someone sees me, so that someone sees me.

This is why I sing and I torment myself.
I should love to be loved.
I wish to be of someone, I wish to be of someone.
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

Endre Ady: I Guard Your Eyes

With my old man’s wrinkled hand,
with my old man’s squinting eyes,
let me hold your lovely hand,
let me guard your lovely eyes.
Worlds have tumbled, through their fall
like a wild beast chased by fright
I came, and I on you did call
scared, I wait with you inside.
With my old man’s wrinkled hand,
with my old man’s squinting eyes,
let me hold your lovely hand,
let me guard your lovely eyes.
I do not know why, how long
can I thus remain for you –
but I hold your lovely hand
and I guard your lovely eyes.

(January, 1916)
Translated by Ádám Makkai
www.libri.hu
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

Endre Ady :Longing For Love

Neither the issue nor the sire,
neither fulfilment nor desire
am I for anyone,
am I for anyone.
I am as all men, the sunless sea,
the alien thule, mystery,
a fleeing wisp of light,
a fleeing wisp of light.
But I must look for friends and brothers;
I want to show myself to others
that seeing they will see,
that seeing they will see.
For this my lyric masochism;
I long to close the gaping schism,
and thus belong somewhere,
and thus belong somewhere.
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

Endre Ady:I Am The Son Of King Gog Of Magog


(Translated by Ádám Makkai)

I am the Son of King Gog of Magog(1)
I'm banging doors and walls to no avail -
yet I must ask this question as prologue:
may I weep in the grim Carpathian vale?
I came along Verecke's(2) famous path,
old Magyar tunes still tear into my chest -
will it arouse your Lordships' righteous wrath
as I burst in with new songs from the West?(3)
Pour in my ears your molten liquid lead,
let me become the new Vazul(4) of songs -
let me not hear the new songs you have bred:
Come, tread me down in furious, evil throngs!
But to the end, tortured, expecting nothing,
the song keeps soaring on its new-found wings:
even if cursed by hundred Founding Fathers -
triphanumt, new, Magyar, and true it rings.
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

My horse Pejkó

Look at my stallion, Pejkó!
He steps here, he steps there, hey-ho!
He sails through mountains and waters,
Don’ try to buy him for diamonds!

Whenever my Pejkó goes walking,
Hear all the stars applauding!
When he flies full speed and prances,
Even the Sun laughs and dances…

Translated: Elma Hunyadi
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

In the forest of Vaál

Far off and deep in woodlands ways
Where nettles lurk and maples blaze,
A distant valley’s heart has made
A dim, serene retreat of shade.

Ah, could my wandering steps repair
To dwell within a cottage there,
How sweet would such existence be
In calmness and tranquillity!…

To give the world no anxious thought
And let its evils go for nought;
To meditate in peace of soul
Upon man’s life, unmarr’d and whole…

Upon the fragrant hills to lie
Beneath the sunny April sky,
And gaze upon the clouds that race
Through past and future, time and space.

This, then, were better after all,
Unmark’d to live, and then to fall
In silence down, unmov’d by strife,
From off the dying tree of life…

And so, unknown, sepultur’d deep,
For ever more to lie asleep …
Such quietude at last were best,
And all we yearn for is to rest.

Translated by:Kirkconnell, Watson
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

Love me, my God

My God in earth, grass and stone, may we

Trouble each other no more this day:

Often I walk in the cemetery.



Often I tell of Thee and Thy word:

Thou art today the truest Art-Not,

Relic of old Hungarian lore.



Love me, if Thou art able to love,

Love me, for alas, I am despised

And it is a good thing to be loved.



Love me and clasp me to Thy bosom,

Alas, we live in a wicked world

And on bread depends my salvation.



How I would like to be fancy-free!

But my life and my fate are foreordained:

So must I be born, so must I eat,



So must I run the race, so love,

So must I make great plans, so beg,

And always give and give and give.

Adams, Bernard

Pintér Tibor put on the Net.
from: http://colecizj.easyvserver.com
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

Poem of the month - Ágnes Nemes Nagy: Thirst

How to express this thirst – words fail me – this
Ineffable, tormenting thirst for you?

Would that I might be a carnivorous plant:
You'd be drawn into me, fall into my scent.
Mine would become the warmth of your bronzed skin,
The genteel hand with which you shield yourself,
Which says, each ruinous time we part,
That after all I have been left alone.
Mine too your arm that over-arches mine,
The gleaming raven-plumage of your hair
On which like wings I glide and glide above
A swaying landscape, glowing, infinite.
I'd drink into myself your melting flesh
As thick and sweet as tropic juices, and
The thrilling magic of the smell of you
Like sage and horsetail of primeval Earth.
And your ethereal soul too I would take
(It flickers lantern-like above your head),
All of you greedily, insatiably,
If a carnivorous flower I could be.

But as I'm not? What more? I'll know no rest.
You love me, I love you. What hopelessness.
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

Today is József Attila's birthday. It is POETRY DAY in Hungary.

Poet's PageBiographyPoemsQuotationsCommentsStats

Attila József was one of the most important and well-known Hungarian poets of the 20th century.

Attila József is the best known of the modern Hungarian poets internationally. His poems have been translated into many languages and he is taught in world literature classes around the globe. Hailed during the communist era of the 1950s as Hungary's great "proletarian poet", his life, personality, and works are now being re-evaluated with the current celebrations of the centenary of his birth.

His first volume of poetry was A szépség koldusa (1922); at that time he was 17 and still in school. József studied privately for a year, and then entered the University of Szeged in in 1924 to study Hungarian and French literature. With the help of a maecenas, Lajos Hatvany, he acquired a good education in Austria (1925) and Paris (1926–27), where he studied French literature and discovered the work of François Villon, the famous poet and thief from the 15th-century.

In 1925 József published his second collection of poems, Nem én kiáltok. He was expelled from the university because of a revolutionary poem, Tiszta szívvel. With his manuscripts he traveled to Vienna, where he made a living by selling newspapers and cleaning dormitories, and then to Paris, where he studied at the Sorbonne. During this period he read Hegel and Karl Marx, whose call for revolution appealed to him.

József's works were praised by such internationally known Hungarian researchers and critics as Béla Balázs and György Lukács. In 1927 several French magazines published József's poems.

József's third collection of poems, Nincsen apám se anyám (1929), showed the influence of French surrealism and Hungarian poets Endre Ady, Gyula Juhász and Lajos Kassák. The next year József joined the illegal Communist Party of Hungary (KMP). Döntsd a tokét (1931) was confiscated by the public prosecutor and in 1931 József's essay Literature and Socialism (Irodalom és szocializmus) led to indictment. However, not long afterward, he left the Communist Party.

Külvárosi éj, a mature collection of poems appeared in 1932. His most famous love poem, Óda, from 1933 took the reader for a journey around and inside the body of the beloved woman. József's last two books were Medvetánc (1934) and Nagyon fáj (1936). With these works he gained a wide critical attention. Ideologically he had started to advocate humane socialism and alliance with all democratic forces. Only a few are aware of the fact that it was Attila József who first formulated the ars poetica of transrealism in his 1937 poem Welcome to Thomas Mann. József's political essays were later included in Volume 3. of his Collected Works (1958).
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.

[Kati Svaby]

The Seventh

If you set out in this world,
better be born seven times.
Once, in a house on fire,
once, in a freezing flood,
once, in a wild madhouse,
once, in a field of ripe wheat,
once, in an empty cloister,
and once among pigs in sty.
Six babes crying, not enough:
you yourself must be the seventh.

When you must fight to survive,
let your enemy see seven.
One, away from work on Sunday,
one, starting his work on Monday,
one, who teaches without payment,
one, who learned to swim by drowning,
one, who is the seed of a forest,
and one, whom wild forefathers protect,
but all their tricks are not enough:
you yourself must be the seventh.

If you want to find a woman,
let seven men go for her.
One, who gives heart for words,
one, who takes care of himself,
one, who claims to be a dreamer,
one, who through her skirt can feel her,
one, who knows the hooks and snaps,
one, who steps upon her scarf:
let them buzz like flies around her.
You yourself must be the seventh.

If you write and can afford it,
let seven men write your poem.
One, who builds a marble village,
one, who was born in his sleep,
one, who charts the sky and knows it,
one, whom words call by his name,
one, who perfected his soul,
one, who dissects living rats.
Two are brave and four are wise;
You yourself must be the seventh.

And if all went as was written,
you will die for seven men.
One, who is rocked and suckled,
one, who grabs a hard young breast,
one, who throws down empty dishes,
one, who helps the poor win;
one, who worked till he goes to pieces,
one, who just stares at the moon.
The world will be your tombstone:
you yourself must be the seventh.

Translated by: Gabor K. Tozser
Attila Jozsef
_________________
We always deceive ourselves twice about the people we love - first to their advantage, then to their disadvantage.