I am sitting

here on a glittering wall of rocks.

The mellow wind of the young summer

like the warmth of a good supper

flies around.

I let my heart grow fond of silence.

It is not so difficult,

– the past swarms around –

the head bends down

and down hangs the hand.

I gaze at the mountains’ mane

every leaf reflects the glow

of your brow.

The road is empty, empty,

yet I can see

how the wind makes your skirt flutter

under the fragile branches of the tree.

I see a lock of your hair tip foreward

your soft breasts quiver

– as the stream down below is running away

behold, I see again,

how the ripples on round white pebbles

the fairy laughter spouts out on your teeth.


O how I love you

who, made to speak

both, the wily solitude which weaves its plots

in the deepest caverns of the heart

and the universe.

Who part from me, in silence, and run away

like the waterfall from its own rumble

while I, between the peaks of my life,

near to the far,

cry out and reverberate

rebounding against sky and earth

that I love you, you sweet step-mother.


I love you like the child loves his mother,

like silent pits love their depth

I love you like halls love the light

like the soul loves the flame,

like the body loves repose.

I love you like all mortals love living

until they die.

Every single smile, movement, word of yours

I keep like the earth keeps all fallen matter.

Like acids into metal

so my instincts have burnt

your dear and beautiful form into my mind,

and there your being fills up everything.

Moments pass by, rattling

but you are sitting mutely in my ears.

Stars blaze and fall

but you stand still in my eyes.

Like silence in a cave,

your flavour, now cool,

still lingers in my mouth

and your hand upon the waterglass

and the delicate veins upon your hand

glimmer up before me again and again.


O what kind of matter am I

that your glance cuts and shapes me?

What kind of soul and what kind of light

and what kind of amazing phenomenon am I

that in the mist of emptiness

I can walk around

the gentle slopes of your fertile body?

And like the word

entering into an enlightened mind

I can enter into its mysteries…

Your veins like rosebushes

tremble ceaselessly.

They carry the eternal current

that love may blossom in your cheeks

and thy womb may bear a blessed fruit.

Many a small root embroiders through and through

the sensitive soil of your stomach

weaving knots, unwinding the tangle

that the cells of your juices may align

into clusters of swarming lines

and that the good thickets of your bushy lungs

may whisper their own glory.

The eternal matter happily proceeds in you

along the tunnels of your bowels

and the waste gains a rich life

in the hot wells of your ardent kidneys.

Undulating hills rise

star constellations oscillate

lakes move, factories operate

millions of living creatures



cruelty and goodness stir

the sun shines, a misty arctic light looms –

unconscious eternity roams about

in your metabolism.


Like clots of blood

these words fall

before you.

Existence stutters

only the law speaks clearly.

But my industrious organs that renew me

day by day

are now preparing for silence.

But until then all cry out.


whom they have selected out of the multitude

of two thousand million people,

you only one,

you soft cradle,

strong grave, living bed

receive me into you!…

(How tall is the sky at dawn!

Armies are dazzling in its ore.

This great radiance hurts my eyes.

I am lost, I believe…

I hear my heart beating

flapping above me.)



(The train is taking me, I am going

perhaps I may even find you today.

My burning face may then cool down,

and perhaps you will softly say:

The water is running, take a bath.

Here is a towel for you to dry.

The meat is cooking appease your hunger,

this is your bed, where I lie.)


Una Risposta to “ATTILA JOZSEF-1933”

  1. Air News Times Says:

    A nice thank you letter


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