What brought you back at this time
when the color of grey is not grey anymore
when even the thought of death is not appealing
when the parade of dreaming silence became enjoyable?
What could even make your voice to reach me
when the sound of silence tortured my soul
when my ears are forced not to hear
when my heart is a numb pump?
What would make me to answer after all
after all I learnt how not to reply
after all our imaginary talk
after all the self-hate?
What makes me reply is the love,
beyond the pain.
It’s just a hidden source
of an ever self-denial,
Whether you are a parent,
or it’s not yet apparent,
I do call upon you
– for the sake of everybody,
and for my sake as well
(since I had no such education),
you need to enlighten your child.
People are wild –
animals living in the wild will be less;
less brutal, brute and brutish than man.
Real predators have language –
the tongue of people kills and torments;
not for the weekly nutrition,
not for meat or blood,
but for their own pleasure
they kill and wound by their words.
Tell your child the truth:
that fear that makes you jump feets
from spiders or snakes,
that fear that freezes you with a cramp
from rabid dogs or wolves
have all mistaken the real object of fear:
(the merchant, the classmate,
the servant, the stagnate,
the young and the old and even the dead,
then even the poet by whom this lecture is said)
are all worse then animals,
from the bottom of your heart,
for that fear may save your heart
may save your heart from becoming like us.
Enlighten your child:
the beasts are human-kind;
the witches – mongers, roosters.
(Bastard dogs, not wolves!)
They either bargain or philosophize,
but they all trade hope for money;
some sells coal, some lovely lies
and some such poetic symphony.
And comfort him if it’s a comfort
to the child that it is a true sort.
Maybe, mutter a new tale,
with fascist-communist detail –
whereas there must be order in the world,
and the order is only for,
so that the child can hold worth
and be not free, that is fair.
And if the child opens his mouth
and looks up at you or cries, shouts –
don’t fall for him, don’t believe these
to stun your principles!
Look at the crafty baby:
growls to make you feel sorry beneath,
but while he’s smiling at the tittie,
he grows his nails and teeth.
Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “Világosítsd föl” (1936).
Give them a moment of happiness,
a life-long watering and care;
they will make you bleed
with your first mistake
All started with a smile
of an unconscious state of mind
led by hormone-made happiness
sealing a smile with sealing-wax
on a man of fusioning confusion.
All startled with a cry
of a subconscious mindlessness
led by childhood-made traumas
sealing cries with high unpaid tax
on a poor heart without happiness.
You wouldn’t get it
even if you could get into the mind
of collapsing blurred, fake-realities
sealed by the possible impossible
truth of all this has been just real.
What a dread dream I had as a child
to be once one of the dead poets
seeing no remedial meaning in life
as I’ve been followed up with bad omens.
Now, as grown up, I couldn’t be more childish
to think I could change those bad omens
trying to bring the never had happiness to others’ life,
only luring them to mourn one of the dead poets.
The sadness doesn’t come from my failure,
neither from that I’m alone,
but rather that I’m seeing those lives’ remedy
in my absence; as I was the bad omen after all.
It rains drops,
drops of water molecules,
drops of Hydrogen and Oxygen combinations
with dust-like minerals and pollution
from the skies.
It drops rains;
rains of human feelings,
rains of coziness and shivering fevers
inside and outside of homes
been and never been.
It’s raining drops;
drops of eager-living hormones,
drops of synthetic concepts like poverty
with any form of possession
and with the lack of any’.
It’s dropping rains;
rains of drying happiness,
rains of sadness in a winter-like summer
with all the humanity
Cats and dogs;
it’s raining ceaseless happenings
it’s dropping away human-made humanities
and gives away paradise
for unknowing animals.