Tag: Hungarian

Péter Závada : THE ONE I AM LOOKING FOR NOW

That you were as cold as ointments.
This was left over from that summer.
To cuddle in the shadow of your sentences,
as if under a tree.

Plus, the difference of pressure,
which turns the breath into sigh.
The problems like empty tin cans
were rattling in your chest.

I think I’m confusing you with your memory.
If I want to reach you,
I have to stretch through time
like through a mirror.

Back then you were the one
who I am looking for now.

Benyamin Bensalah

13.09.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Péter Závada, “AKIT MOST KERESEK”.

Tamás Filip : He lives in darkness

Find someone to replace me.
Find me in someone else instead.
The role is playing me,
if there is applause, I do not bow my head.

I’m the one who doesn’t dwell
on the way, like a message,
no chance to say, I’ve felt here well.
If arriving, show me passage.

Not the first and not one of many,
not a question and not an answer.
The one who can wait any,
beyond the time where no men were.

Who is blinded lifeless
lives dreams in darkness.

Benyamin Bensalah

08.09.2021

Translated from the Hungarian Poem of Tamás Filip, “Sötétben éli”.

Sándor Reményik: I want to

I want to: not to be important to myself.

Let me be a brick in an endless wall,
Stairs, on which someone else goes up,
A plow that works the ground, digging into it,
But the corn is not its merit.
Let me be the wind that carries the seed,
But not causing the flowers bloom,
And the people, when they are on the field – assume,
Let them admire the flower.
Let me be the handkerchief that wipes away tears
Let me be the silence that always eases.
Let me be the hand that caresses shoulders,
Let me be, and never let me know I exist.
Let me be the dream on the tired lashes.
Let me be the vision that appears
And doesn’t ask if it’s watched or not,
Let me be the mirage on the rune.
Let me be from the black heart of the old earth
A deep sigh up to the sky and forth,
Let me be the wire on which message goes through
And replace me if I’m worn.
Let me be the boat under many souls,
Simple, roughly clashed raft,
That’s taken by deep rivers onto the sea.

Let me be a violin that cries into the infinity,
Until the artist puts down the bow.

Benyamin Bensalah

27.08.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Sándor Reményik, “Akarom”.

Sick scrabble

Months, weeks, decades have passed;
was not good but I tried to love in the past,
imagining good dreams naively
that there is who loves me, friends who keep me,
but like just a good peasant
doing nothing,
now, here I am to put the sow …
I am putting an end to this show.

Benyamin Bensalah

18.04.2021

Translated from my Hungarian poem, “Beteg tegek” (2007).

Cecilia Meireles: ABOUT WHO COMES ONCE

She will come so late if she she comes once,
So late and so privately
That even the evening wouldn’t dare to see the seance
Neither the road she crossed quietly…
She will come so late and privately.

I had already turned off the lights
And while darkness covers me sadly,
In the depths of my loneliness, I stifle my sighs
From the bitter heat of settling,
While darkness covers me sadly.

And when there is no more question in my eyes
And the light of all memories went out,
Maybe you are just thinking about me in silence,
Who is slowly being brought to me by the road …
When all memories went out.

Maybe she’ll knock on my door too,
She doesn’t say her name, enters wordlessly,
By then, sorrow will wear me off half dead though
And I’m not waiting anyone to come carelessly,
When she enters the door wordlessly.

She comes in the quiet moment of the evening,
As a belated, long-awaited illusion,
She will be lovely thinking
Magic words to listen to in amusement,
As a belated, long-awaited illusion.

Maybe she will wake me up in the dark
Her word, which will be softer than gloom,
And we would stay there quietly, speechless, stark,
Not even knowing who we were before that room
With silently around us the gloom …

Benyamin Bensalah

23.08.2021

Translated from the Hungarian translation of the Portugese poem of Cecilia Meireles, “ARRÓL, AKI EGYSZER ELJÖN”.

Ervin Kibédi: Something came to intervene. . .

You nurtured a dream in your heart’s deepness;
Preserving the renewing spring
Giving the dying world a new chance
Easing the complaints’ sting,
Handing all awaiting flowers an advance.
But nature dressed in mourning scene.
You can’t change it, you see hence;
Something always came, came to intervene.

A decaying cell, a disgusting theory,
A war or a moment of calming
Death of a martyr or loss of a tyranny
Maybe joy or just suffering?!
You fought with the harsh times vainly,
You protected your instincts in vain
You were weak or had good energy;
Something always came, came to intervene.

And there your mother waited for the last hour
Preparing her final speech
So deserted, so lonely dour
You set out to say something at least
You’d like to at least! – but you just missed the hour-
To reassure, to comfort her
And you will have no more;
Something always came, came to intervene.

Like a child watching a flying ball
That a female hand throws awkwardly,
You would have expected your work to pay it all
Thus solving all problems of life with no worry.
You always hoped so with a childish call;
That you can stop the time you’ve been,
You wanted to, but you couldn’t at all
Something always came, came to intervene.

As a fine breeze of secrets on a summer evening
You were touched by the love of worth
You thought you were just looking for a seeking!
But the wound in your heart just got worse.
Even Cupid, love itself as being
Was watching over you in vain;
It’s over, gone, for what you are crawling
Something always came, came to intervene.

You wanted to describe the big study,
Creating a melody that’s eternal
Wiping away tears from the human body,
Such questions never let you rest at all.
You were carving a statue, the chisel got shoddy
And everything was broken before seen
Would you like to start again? God! – it’s tardy!
Something always came, came to intervene.

Where did the mates, good friends go
All that remained is the blind yourself.
How they all loved and how they flattered though!
You believed them and cheated on yourself.
Once upon a time, so much was expected of you
Now they are whispering behind the scene,
The trouble was, maybe slowly you get through:
Something always came, came to intervene.

Fresh meat has long been covered with green mold,
The marble cracks thinly
You suspect and feel that something is being rolled,
That your life is disappearing dimly.
There’s none to do but to stand, wait, behold
Like a chased wild among the silent trees.
You wanted to live, getting old –
But it can’t be: – Something intervenes.

Benyamin Bensalah

14.08.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Ervin Kibédi, “Valami közbejött. . .”.

Jenő Heltai: Questionnaire

When your tortured heart goes silent,
A big questionnaire will be your defiant.

What your motionless lips sigh,
An invisible clerk will take notes by.

What you are going to answer – because you have to answer! –
Where did you let your life go to disaster?

Where did you turn left instead of right?
Answer! Do you know the cursed time?

If you were given a divine miracle,
Say: would you go back there empirical?

Like seeking the handle of a lost axe,
Would you start again the long road’s acts?

While pursuing desire and urging trouble,
Would you dare to run another Marathon?

All that is vile, lying, and false,
Would you go through it, say, through the same faults?

Why? Why?! For new goals? Or…
To get where you are now?

So that, forgetting all the old torments,
You can cry and fray again with no ends?

For this cheap misery as a prize
For this more bitter than sweet, tiny life?

Benyamin Bensalah

10.08.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Jenő Heltai, “Kérdőív”.

Attila József: BANQUET OF GREAT GIFTS

I give you a fist big ruby diamond,
Hang it around your neck and watch it shine on
Above your heart, in the middle of your breast,
Marvel how it glows, like embers, its lustre.

I weave a crown with my eyes for you,
As a goddess, I come to you so
I lay your way with silk and rhymes,
But don’t walk on it – it grows sighs.

If you’re thirsty, I’ll give you the finest wine,
But I leave a few darkening tears inside
And if you feel that the taste is bitter -,
Just drink it, there is no sweeter.

When your body feels cold, I give you my soul,
I wrap your two shoulders with velvet shawl.
And my trembling brain if you’re hungry -,
With me, you’ll be never needy.

And if your tired body wants to rest,
Rest in my arms, – there is no softer bed
And because you will need protection one day:
Accept, please, accept my arms to stay.

Accept them, and do with them whatever you feel,
Though you can’t be cruel to me.
Even if you don’t come, they will all remain yours,
They won’t be called back by weak hours.

Benyamin Bensalah

09.07.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “NAGY AJÁNDÉKOK TORA” (1922).

Attila József: ARISE FROM THE FLOOD

Frighten me, God,
I am in need of your wrath.
Hurry, arise from the flood,
don’t leave me in nothingness as bath.

I, pushed up by the horse,
and from the dust I barely appear,
not human sized heart’s
knives of torment I am playing with here.

I am inflammable, and like the Sun,
I ignited such a flame – take it!
Shout at me as it’s wrongly done!
Snap at my hand with breaking hit.

And let your vengeance or grace
beat into me: sinlessness is a mistake!
Since having such an innocent face
burns me more than hell’s lake.

In wild, foaming salivary seas
I rotate like a bite when I am to lay
all alone. And I would dare all what man sees,
but nothing makes sense to stay.

To die, my breath
will held back if you don’t beat me with stick,
and like that I will be the gazing death
against your human-faced lack!

Benyamin Bensalah

23.05.2021

Translated from the Hungarian poem of Attila József, “BUKJ FÖL AZ ÁRBÓL” (1937).