József Attila

[ritaxis]

I was looking at a Hungarian ensemble of Greek folk musicians this morning and of course I ended up with a giant playlist of the group Sebő and of course I ended up looking up the Hungarian socialist poet József Attila, whose poems are in a lot of their songs. This translation, by Vernon Watkins, is from here.

Grief

By József Attila, 1929

In my eyes grief dissolves;
I ran like a deer;
Tree-gnawing wolves
In my heart followed near.

I left my antlers
A long time ago;
Broken from my temples,
They swing on a bough.

Such I was myself:
A deer I used to be.
I shall be a wolf:
That is what troubles me.

A fine wolf I'm becoming.
Struck by magic, while
All my pack-wolves are foaming,
I stop, and try to smile.

I prick up my ears
As a roe gives her call;
Try to sleep; on my shoulders
Dark mulberry leaves fall.

Comments

[al-zorra.livejournal.com]

That is fierce.

Fiercely sorrowful.

Love, C.