Hungary is far away...

Hungary is far away…
( by Attila Jozsef , 1934, translation by Peter Szabo 2003)


Hungary is far.
Hungary is over the mountains.
From there you would come
with birds, singers in short skirts,
it would be dawn,
airy,
light,
lice, clean anvils would clink in the silence.


Sir, haven’t you met Hungary?
I know your tongue is heavy.
I know my heart is heavy.
Sir, haven’t you met Hungary?

Girls, many of them, are running,
as the morning wind,
with hair streaming in the Eastern sky.
And she’s kneading a fat milk loaf,
she’s prettier than the evening shadow of a lily.

Sir, haven’t you met Hungary?
It’s autumn there,
in our tiny gardens
swishing dry flowers are planted
by God.