A keresés eredménye

Szeretem magam

Tök mindegy
Nem tudtam összeszedni magam
Nem tudtam, mi is lehetnék
Nem hittem, hogy az élet valaha is jobb lehet
Azt hittem, örökre itt maradok
Minden megtört
Az életem terápiává vált
 
Eltartott egy darabig, hogy rájöjjek, elvesztem, annyira elvesztem
Most már magamra találtam, soha nem állok meg
 
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok elindulni
Nem, nem kell, nem kell senki más
 
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok elindulni
Nem, nem kell, nem kell senki más
 
Hát mostanában
Emelt fővel járok
Senki nem fog lehúzni
Mert megváltoztattam az életem
Vadulj meg, nem kell a szereteted
Tartsd csak meg, mert nekem van elég
Készen állok, készen állok
 
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok elindulni
Nem, nem kell, nem kell senki más
 
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok elindulni
Nem, nem kell, nem kell senki más
 
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
 
Eltartott egy darabig, hogy rájöjjek, elvesztem, annyira elvesztem
Most már magamra találtam, soha nem állok meg
 
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok elindulni
Nem, nem kell, nem kell senki más
 
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok szeretni magam
Készen állok elindulni
Nem, nem kell, nem kell senki más
 
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
(Nem kell senki más)
 
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
Pá-dá-pá-pá-pá-dá-dá-pá
 

Haìku 19. The Swallows

November, the swallows
Have vanished.
The sky, without its frail tin whistles
Has been hushed.
It is a lot less beautiful,
My street.
My heart, without their entangled
curves feels naked.
 

On the Branches of the Willows

And how could we have sung
with the foreign foot on our heart,
among the dead abandoned in the squares
on the grass set hard with ice, at the lamb-like
cry of children, at the black howl
of the mother advancing on her son
crucified on the telegraph pole?
On the branches of the willows, as a vow,
our poets’ lyres were hanging,
swinging just a little in the dismal wind.
 

Night watch

Deep inside the sleeping city
lie millions of submissive people.
Nobody left to yell at night
except the Marie bridge old tramp.
 
Nothing but hacks1 in the streets,
all the ruffians2 are behind bars.
It's all so quiet it smells of rot.
Paris will bore herself3 to death.
 
The baron who rules in the city hall
wants everyone to go to bed quietly.
Squealing beds are forbidden by law,
snoring is tolerated. Thanks guv'.
 
(Keep quiet, it's the night watch)
 
Come on, children of the motherland
The tyranny waged against us
that we are deluged with4
by this buffoon elected by dull jerks.
 
Paris is dying now
for surrendering to a gangster,
a bastard who stole
her sleepless nights.
 
Paris by night it's over.
Paris will bore herself to death.
Paris is dying, give her back
her sleepless nights.
 
(Keep quiet, it's the night watch)
 
It's the night watch...
 

• 1. prison guards
• 2. 'apaches' was the name of crooks and gangsters up until early 20th century. It is associated with a certain romantic view of the past, so it's a rather positive term in that context
• 3. the city is likened to a woman
• 4. these three lines are a parody of the French national anthem

Along with the swallows

Your strawberry basket and your dotted dress
and your angel face.
This strange language I don't understand.
My eyes are eating you.
 
Your outfit like a giant's, like a hero in training
Your chewing gum1 dancing between your youthful2 jaws
All these promises written on your skin
as my dress slides down and I turn myself into a gift.
 
Wait for me.
I'll be done with the war this spring
We'll meet again.
 
Take me far away across sea,
over there, to the West.
 
Wait for me.
Along with the swallow, no later, I'll be there.
 
Take me to the top of the skyscrapers,
to the mirror I pretend to believe3 just for you
 
Keep my cigarets and my harmonica.
From now on I will play it only for you.
Show me your smile, yous sign of the cross,
this is what I will carry away with me.
 
Take this medal, it belonged to my mother.
It will protect you in these fields of misery.
Take this last kiss and remember it
in these days of anger, that's all you'll have left.
 
Wait for me.
I'll be done with the war this spring
We'll meet again.
 
Take me far away across sea,
over there, to the West.
 
Wait for me.
Along with the swallow, no later, I'll be there.
 
Take me to the top of the skyscrapers,
to the mirror I pretend to believe just for you
 

• 1. This American marvel was brought to Europe by the GIs
• 2. lit. '(brand) new'
• 3. That's rather an anachronism. In 1944 America was a land of freedom and plenty for most French people, who had to endure four years of dictatorship and miserable living standards under German occupation. Disenchantment about the 'lying mirror' of the American Dream would come much later.

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