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A keresés eredménye

Találatok száma: 2

2018.09.14.

Auction of a Heart

'...and the next lot is a heart: who wants a heart ?
You girls there - do you want this heart ?
A joker pulled it
from the poet's breast! How
did he manage to hold it
above the waves in his
rudderless boat, with its ripped sail,
and damaged prow ?'
 
The auctioneer is calling,
the heart still in his hand:
'You girls there, offer me something for this heart!
This rare heart - only one like it
in all this land -
indeed in the whole world...
This priceless poet's heart, saved
from the storm, from the broken-apart
wreck on the rocks,
this heart itself like a wave ?'
 
The auctioneer keeps going,
for a girl has caught his eye:
'That girl over there -
are you bidding ?
A poet's heart
that surges like the sea -
Girl, have pity,
take this heart, this life,
this poetic longing !'
 
Still the auctioneer is shouting,
'Is nobody going to make an offer for this heart ?
It's a poet's heart
that surged like the sea
like the wave that rushes with wave
and it beats like the waves,
when they pound on the shore.
It leaves shells and foam behind.
Take the heart, take the life,
it's the poet's desire!'
But the auctioneer is getting nowhere -
Who wants a heart ?
 
Girls laugh and
put their fingers to their lips
while the heart, unstillable,
silently containing the treasures of the sea,
beats and throbs,
 
Beats and sobs.
Now the auctioneer is hoarse.
And then a woman calls:
'Auctioneer! that poetic organ
is unsaleable. You'll have to
give it away - to me, of course,
for it's the heart of my son,
my blood and no bargain.'
 
2018.09.14.

What love is

The happy or the bored
may ask what love is -
but it doesn't have descriptiveness.
Its qualities are wordless.
 
You feel it secretly and slowly.
It's there and you don't realise
it's living in your heart.
 
A flower may be plucked,
a pearl or cloth of gold
be snatched and fought over.
The caged bird sings its heart out
and if you freed it, it would also sing
far from you and everyone.
 
Love is not flower
nor pearl
nor caged bird
but a formless dweller in the heart.
 
That's what love is:
less than happiness.