Árpád Tóth: The Tree (A fa)

Oh, look at that strange, tilted tree,

The way it bends across the creek,

Can you maybe not to love it,

Not to seek your partner in it?

No golden sun shines trough the old branches,

Silent are the birds, they all used to sing,

Has no more fruits, no flowers either,

Yet it stands, the wise man of sunset,

Like one who wonders on such evening,

Sinks in the secret of infinity

And gently leans with all of his body,

Wherever his soul pulls him without it... 

 

1916

Translated by: Maria Bencsath

Árpád Tóth: In the Park (A parkban)

The wind is softly crying and weeping

Like small boys frightened from having gotten lost,

The moon is a slice of faded golden seam,

And having crossed already the mountain top

The pale dawn is quietly approaching.

I am wading in thin and splashy mud,

Afraid to look towards the far autumn plot,

My faded lips quietly start to cry

And I taste the sweet flavour of crushed, thick blood;

Flattering black flags enfold the tree arms.

Suddenly, I see feverish and sweet

Pictures with fading eyes, delayed desire,

I hear gentle and soft minuets while

On quiet, scuttling, silk covered feet

Life is floating away amongst sad trees…

1908

Translated by Maria Bencsath

Árpád Tóth: Why? (Miért?)

In my window, evening graying,

I am sitting without moving,

Doing nothing, being idle,

Minutes flying, my time floating.

Watching dusty, stunted branches,

Saddened flowers, petals grieving,

Watching them in silence, coldly,

What’s their fate to me, the lonely!

My soul is bare, cold and empty

And the minutes are still racing,

Then, while watching the pale nightfall

I will have to leave my window…

With compassion Death speaks to me:

“Your heart trouble, leave it to me,

My frigid hands will caress it,

Put it to rest very gently.”

Then in terror I scream wildly:

I don’t want to become happy,

All I want is my life to live!

Why? what a foolish, sad secret!

1906

Translated by: Maria Bencsath