Body and Soul

My glance took flight and landed
on a thorny fingertip of the pine beyond the window
pasturing on the green and blue, willing, yet reluctant
to reach further. After wriggling on twigs for a while,
it untangled itself from its net.
Departing on gently waving paths
towards the triumphant throne it flew off.
An arid pod left behind in the room
waits in silence enduring its plot.

Impasse

To wake up from a numb dream on mountain peaks
where a clear panorama opens on the region
covered with snow, colourful ribbons of smoke

zigzag here and there, and become a knot
like on a carefully wrapped souvenir,
a single movement is enough to remove

the crepe paper and a finely grooved
wooden box grows visible; a dear pistol inlaid
with mother of pearl on a velvety cushion.

Where the ecstasy of falling into abysses
spreads wings, from the ridge of impasse
to escape headlong among houses.

 

Translated by: Ágnes Lehoczky

Tags: Zsuzsa Takács