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Poezii Românesti - Romanian Poetry



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Ode, by Attila Jozsef
poetry [ ]
pentru biblioteca

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by [pieter ]

2004-10-23  |     | 

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,
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
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.)


( 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 Szabo Peter, 2oo3-2oo4

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