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.
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.
Translated by: Ágnes Lehoczky
Tags: Zsuzsa Takács