I’ve been waiting my own end
While others were waiting for living;
Dipping in all the happiness
That I could not afford.
While others were waiting for living,
I’ve been counting my last minutes;
Promising peace in every second
That pushed me out of life.
I’ve been counting my last minutes
While guessing which organ dies first;
Whether the head, heart or lungs
That has firstly mercy on me.
While guessing which organ dies first,
Others guessed about soccer matches;
Whether the red with blue or black stripes
That wins their thousandth game.
Others guessed about soccer matches
While I’ve been looking for meaning;
Whether there was or I was missing
That pushed others for living.
While I’ve been looking for meaning,
Others loved, laughed and cried;
Being genuinely the creature
That they meant to be.
Others loved, laughed and cried
While I kept observing and writing;
Having no sense in life, I wonder
That I am a human.
I’ve been waiting my own end while others were waiting for living;
Having no sense in life, I wonder that I am a human.
In front of the bathroom mirror,
On the terrain of self-terror
From those eyes which window
A world – an unworldly world.
I cannot say it – as a simple poet,
That I have no words to connect
To the stance I’m standing at,
But it’s hardly describeable.
I couldn’t catch there any feeling;
My facial expressions are deceiving,
No smile, no sad droll is revealing,
Just an empty poet on his own.
There, notwithstanding, syllables are expressing
A hidden, barren world – so depressing,
That has no space, no time at all,
Screaming: I’m alone.
At the sink where my elbow’s planking,
In the plughole where the water’s ending,
My thoughts follow-follow the flow;
Sinking thinking into my ego.
Going down, oh deeply, but the hole is seen so weakly,
Deeply, oh yes deeply, but there’s a dark place below,
And I am barely seeing any, any meaning
In the sink and what I’m thinking on…
The old bold me wasted all his chances –
If I had any –
Seeing no escaping romances –
But I had many –
Crying for help dearly –
Having remained unimportant –
Declaring my fear clearly –
Notwithstanding ending in abandonment.
Like a frozen stone
Without a glance being blown,
I got thrown away.
I was flying in silence,
Then, I moaned up without resilience
On a brick.
Through an eaves,
I fell into the stream’s waves,
Where the jailer is the detachment,
Not somewhat cold.
The spring is sobbing,
Its tears are smoothly rushing,
Pushing to a land.
Among stones standing,
Patience is suffocating, ending,
Promising their hold never ends,
In a new stream,
Me and solitude in a team,
But it’s all fine.
Sleeping is the only way,
Not seeing when we’re thrown away,
Translated from my own Hungarian poem, Kör kört követ.