Playing With The Wind (Játék a széllel)
A sweeping wind soaking everything
And drying its time-bandages on my back.
I’m undecided between dream and reality.
Thought is treading with a planet pack.
The wind can start without being blown.
We have the ideal buried deep inside,
The Lord will save us from drowning in sin,
I can see hope on new hope crucified.
Smarting, dismembered, live memories.
They drip their sticky honey on my spirit,
They paint my black trails with starlight breeze.
The magic of sand projects me into space.
You could be my safe shelter. The wind
Brings you back, but you never reach my face.
Our Lord
our Lord
if you are indeed
an invention of ours
and we are
creations of yours
then you’ll surely
forgive us that
our own work
did not turn out
perfect
In Refugee Camp (Menekülttáborban)
Blue-bleached clouds are
grazing over the camp
servantwinds scrub
the night clean
time sits around
in a winter coat
among bare tree branches
warm ashes can be found lingering
in the tatters of old supermarket circulars
and I keep busy
trying to drown a live bird
in my chest
the word
Shivering Tulips (Didergő tulipánok)
this snowfall smarts
I’m in it up to my neck
waiting for you
since this morning
longing is
a high-grade dream
with you
and with me too
hand in hand
barebushes are stomping their feet
I’mwaiting for you
amongwinds passing by
andshivering tulips
within
Connecting (Kapcsolnak)
Europe reporting
a point made in several languages
Louis the 16th likes to go bowling
Mozart is taking music lessons
the trial in the case of Josef K is in progress
Joyce is stealing glances of himself in the mirror
Dery is counting unfinished sentences
order still prevails
all’s quiet on the Western Front
Europe still lacks
the latest nuclear weapons
Where’s the Window (Hol az az ablak)
who’s there for me to turn to
where’s the window
that will
let me see
a lot more
than anyone else
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