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MagyarOnline.net Fórumok >> MON 2002 - 2011 >> NHT - A XX.sz versremekei angolul
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 pieter  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-10-23 22:24   
Ode, by Attila Jozsef ( new edition)


I?m sitting on a twinkling wall of rocks.
Summer?s lying-
Its breeze, as the warmth of
a nice dinner, is flying.
I get my heart accustomed to silence.
I have a chance-
what?s disappeared gathers here,
the head bows and the hand near
just hangs.

I?m watching the mane of the hills-
your forehead?s light,
flashed by the leaves in a cry?
no- one?s on the road,
your skirt flies away, along
the flutters of the night.
Under the leafy boughs
I can see as your hair strokes
the air, your soft breasts- and as
the stream?s running along-
I see, as, on the stones, being born:
your angel smile, as a breath.



Oh, how much I love you,
you, who drew me out, with a glance,
both, in my heart?s rooms hidden
intrigue of loneliness,
and the Universe.

As waterfall of its own roar, you, dear
part from me- in silence you run farther,
while me, among peaks of my life, near
the approaching distance, I sing, cry,
wriggling on the ground and in the sky:
I love you so, dear stepmother.



I love you as child loves his mum,
as depth loves the silent mine,
as rooms like the light, the fine
flame likes the soul, body likes the calm.
I love you as those mortal like
to live until the minute they die.

I keep your every smile, breath, word,
move, as fallen things are kept by ground.
Just as acid into steel swords,
you bit my mind where instincts you found-
kind, nicely shaped bird,
your existence fills all, around.

Moments clattering walk by,
but you stay mutely in my brain.
Stars catch fire and fall, die,
you? re still in my eyes as in river the rain.
Your taste, as silence in a lair
in my mouth is floating as cool air,
and on the glass, your hand stays,
I see the fine veins.
It?s looming there somewhere.


Oh, what kind of material am I,
that your eyes cut and shape me?
What soul, oh, and what light,
makes me walk all over, this twilight,
your gently sloping sights?
And as the Word got by mind, these keys,
make me descend to its mysteries?


Your arteries, as a rose- bush
tremble continuously as
they carry current for your
cheeks, so love can bloom and
your womb have a blessed fruit in the end.
Your stomach?s sensitive sole
is embroidered by a whole
bunch of fine roots, spun all
into piles as food they devour,
and your blood cells roar
their glory for us all.



Eternal matter flows as a tide,
As life in bowels it brings,
and excrement gains hot, rich life
in your kidneys busy springs.

Wavy hills arise there,
zodiacs tremble in you, somewhere,
lakes move, factories work,
millions of animals bustle, birds,
beetles,
weed,
cruelty and good deed;
Sun is shining, northern light is lour-
your essence in silence feels the pour
of the unconscious eternal deep.



As clotted blood, these words
vibrate,
fall in front of you.
Existence stutters,
only the law is clear.
But my busy organs creating me again,
and again, they?ve prepared, as my brain,
to become mute.

But till then they all shout-
You, the one, above all,
All two billion human souls ,
the only, soft cradle around,
deep grave, living bed I?ve found,
accept me in!...


( How high?s the down sky!
Armies shine in its ore.
The strong light hurts my eye.
I believe I?m lost, I fall.
I hear, as above me,
My heart beats once more.)



Enclosure

( Train is carrying me, I follow you, love,
once I?ll maybe find you there, above,
maybe this burning face cools once,
maybe, silently, you?ll speak as I glance:

Fresh water?s splashing, have a bath!
Here?s a towel, to dry you up in the grass!
Meat is frying, I know you?ve waited that!
Where I?m lying, there is your bed.)



copyright Szabó Péter, 2oo4
_________________
"Csak azok gondolkoznak mélyen akiket nem érintett meg a nevetségessé válhatóság érzete."

E.M. Cioran

 
 pieter  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-01-25 16:46   

In the fields shining blue
by János Dénes Orbán


With deep roots in the ground it stands
in the huge field shining blue.
The land answers to wind?s wild dance.

Wires. Bugs on them. Grey bugs.
Burning feathers in the grass.
Mute waters under the ground.


Eternal time?s screech
is harvesting dusty flowers.


It opens its winds to the sky.
From its roots now it is cut.
Its footprint?s a bleeding wound.
In the air it cuts a path,
its scream sent ahead in the dust.

The wound is covered by barbed wire.

Waters burst up to the sky.
Birds hide under the green grass.
Bug- enamel on the wire.
Winter answers to wild lands.

Faces wait in the ground under us.



I?m a flower
by János Dénes Orbán


Who dares to tell me that I?m not
?cause I have no petals and leaves.
I?m the first poet to defend
his poems with no arguments, but fists.
I?m a flower. That?s it.

Dare you deny it, you shit?


S.K.?s letter
By Janos Denes Orban
( a censored version, with no author?s approval)

I only wanted
you didn?t let me down,
move in to my room
do cleaning while I?m gone
I thought I could ask
from you this little thing
do the washing up
bring tea when I ring
I thought I could wish
from you this little thing
wash my new shirt if
I sometimes vomit on it
pay for all my beers
when I dress help a bit
let your body heat
always burn me deep
to serve only your king
exclusively me, me
gobble me a bit
while I?ll watch TV
one of my two ends
that deserves your glance
and swallow me down
praise my taste of course
and if ten more times
I ask you for more
I only wished you
did not take your life
If I tell you that
I slept all around
never ask me where
I had been today
and when I arrive
fall on my neck say
let me wash your legs
I thought I could wish
don?t ask in exchange
anything for this
move into my soul
don?t search it I say
and please, appreciate
all the happiness

I gave every day



Balatonszárszó

III

Je n?ai point de théme,
Excepté que je t? aime-

I could compose only this,
because I fell asleep a bit,

whenever I necked anyone,
I always found the only one.

She had glasses on her face,
looked at me under its frames,

And when I hugged her she closed her eyes
under her glasses. They always bother us.

In my heart I felt deep pain,
when the station left the train.

I didn?t meditate too long,
it rained so I went directly home.

She left me tobacco, a hundred grams,
so that I can smoke now and then.

And not dreams, but sleep instead.
We?ll never see each other again.


Don?t be rash
by Attila József


Don?t be rash.
Though others earn on your work-
Work always exactly, nice,
as the star walks on the skies,
work like that, it?s worth.



I?ve been hiding you
by Miklós Radnóti


I?ve been hiding you
as the precious apples
among leaves? re hidden by a branch
as in winter window glass,
the flower of common sense,
in my mind you?ve been burst .
And now I now what it means
to see your hand flit to your hair,
I keep the fine curve of your rib
in my heart, deep somewhere,
your ankle?s tiny tilting
coldly I admire as it stumbles,
as someone who has rested
in these existing wanders.
And in my dreams though,
I have one hundred arms
and, as a once dreamed God,
my hundred arms embrace you around.


Copyright Peter Szabo, 2003

_________________
"Csak azok gondolkoznak mélyen akiket nem érintett meg a nevetségessé válhatóság érzete."

E.M. Cioran

 
 pieter  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-01-25 16:37   
OK. Atnezem a Viccek forumot azert, hogy meggyozodjek.:)
_________________
"Csak azok gondolkoznak mélyen akiket nem érintett meg a nevetségessé válhatóság érzete."

E.M. Cioran

 
 hunor  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-01-25 16:21   
2004-01-25 16:19, MagyarOnline.net:
-
Van adults only resz is?

-

En moderalom. Nincs kulon ilyen resz, igy hely sem hasonlo jellegu irasoknak.

Udv,

Hunor

 
 MagyarOnline.net  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-01-25 16:19   
pieter uzenete:



Ketszer voltam az Ivoban, Zetelakan nem. ha mar moderaol a site-ot megmondanad OJD forditasaimat hova tehetem fel?:):) Van adults only resz is?

_________________
Sosem ertettem miert kell valakinek egyetlen nore vagy orszagra korlatoznia csodalatat.
J. k. Galbraith

 
 MagyarOnline.net  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-01-25 16:17   
Ferencz Zsuzsanna uzenete:



Kedves Péter, ne haragudj, látom, nem ismered a MON-t. Az idegen nyelvű szövegek a Non-Hungarian c. topikban vannak. Mondd, te el se olvasod az általad nyitott rovatokat?
Amúgy gratula. Nem ismerjük mi egymást Zetelakáról?

 
 pieter  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-01-25 15:46   
Just to avoid misunderstandings: Any poems posted by pieter are Copyright Peter Szabo.:)
_________________
"Csak azok gondolkoznak mélyen akiket nem érintett meg a nevetségessé válhatóság érzete."

E.M. Cioran

 
 pieter  módosítás |   válasz erre |   profil |  2004-01-25 15:43   
A drunk man on the rails
by Attila József


A drunk man is lying on the rails,
holding his stick in his left hand,
snoring, dreaming his best dreams,
And night, on the road, takes a bend.

Night wind?s decorated him indeed,
sky spreads divine dew on his head,
his ruffled hair has plenty of weed,
he isn?t moving, just gasps for breath.

His fist is hard as sleeper under his head,
he?s sleeping as once in his mother?s arms.
His clothes are ragged. He is just a lad.

The Sun?s asleep and the sky- a grey something.
A drunk man is lying on the rails.
And from far, slowly, the Earth is rumbling.



If your soul, logic
by Attila József


If your soul, logic,
as a stream, on stones,
chatting flows, through it,
through things, blue sky, all-

vessels beat, approaching flood,
come, come to your sense!
needless are poems around,
I am the poet, myself.

Sun is ripening
tobacco leaves, they fall.
The lyrics are logic;
But no science at all.


You are sleeping
by Sándor Csóori


I watch your face, shuddering hand muscles:
you?re sleeping in the silence of early buried lovers-
I find it harder and harder to look out to the sky.


With my everyday death
by Sándor Csóori


I?d drink, I?m superstitious, I?d drink for you,
not to die, vodka wine,
spirits strong as poison.
The Danube would carry my days, my nights too,
my shade, a crumpled bag would carry the Danube,
my frayed shirtsleeve would float above
on the bushes near.
And me, winking at yellow roses that depart
with my daily death I?d redeem you, my love,
for your louring cells
I? d seek healing god on my knees I would silently crawl.


Travel report
by Dezső Kosztolányi

Skeppsborn

Me, the East?s son, from far, I live here,
two books in front of me:
the directory and the Bible near.
I?ve made friends with unconcern.
But my room knows me already and
as I step in, walls say welcome, sir.


Would you like to play?
by Dezső Kosztolányi


Tell me, would you be my playmate,
would you like to play for ever,
would you join me into deep shade,
to play, as children, a serious whatever,
at the head of a table to sit gravely,
to throw pearls, be glad at nothing,
to eat ,drink water, wine moderately,
dressing up bad, ragged clothes blushing?
Would you like to play whatever means life,
long autumn, snowy winters after that,
could we drink tea mutely, without a sigh,
ruby tea and yellow vapour, in our bed?
Would you like to have a totally clean heart,
to listen for long, as fear tears you apart,
how, on the street, November is walking,
the street cleaner the silent sidewalk stroking,
and whistling under our windows?
Would you like to play snakes, doves,
long journeys, trains, ships that are full,
Christmas, dreams, everything beautiful?
Would you like to play happy lovers,
pretend to cry, as leaves cemeteries cover?
Would you like to live, to live for ever,
live in a play that ?s reality itself?
Lie on the ground among flowers there,
and would you like to play, to play death?


Flora
By Attila József


Hexameters



The slushy snow?s thickening, the eaves starting to drip,
the ice is a blackened pile, it?s fainted, it fades away,
fluid bubbles out, ripples towards the drain, flowing,
the light joy is away, the heavenly height trembles a bit,
and happy desire with flush throws its shirt over the morning.

Do you see how fearing- awaking I love you, Flora?
In this chatty beautiful thawing you loosen off the mourn
of my heart, as bandage of a wound- I?m again tingling too.
Roaring is the flood of your eternal name, delicate sunshine,
and I?m shivering- seeing that I?ve lived without you.



_________________
Sosem ertettem miert kell valakinek egyetlen nore vagy orszagra korlatoznia csodalatat.
J. k. Galbraith

 
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