sándor kányádi

Prologue

there is a land with beauty graced
landscapes where the bitter taste
that fouls my mouth is purified
there is a land deep deep inside
where words-of-the-field are flowering
like edelweiss the phrases cling
for dear life to the mountain cliffs
the brooks are my blood relatives
they purl and whisper in my heart
(in winter I freeze over hard
to shelter them) like tiny mice
they clink my armour-plate of ice
the summers autumns winters springs
are my forebears and afterlings
there is a land within
I wear it as I wear my skin
tormented but still beauty-graced
landscapes where the bitter taste
that fouls my mouth is purified
there is a land deep deep inside


trans peter zollman