06. 04. 2007. 08:04

Ill Augury (poems)

Zsófia Balla

"What was it that happened? One should know. When? And how?
So often recounted! Job wrote it long ago.
in the ether spins every lethal shot.
Would it not be better not to hear, not to know?"

Ill Augury
 
Bricks shall crash on you, and debris,
in vain you'll teach the blind to see,
 
And when your shoe is full of holes,
you shall limp on calloused soles.
 
Harsh winds will swat you as you trudge
in wintertime through knee-deep sludge.
 
And you shall wring your hands with woe,
while gaunt cares gnaw at your soul.
 
You’ll plead for death, and cry and wail,
but you, you’ll live to no avail.
 
 
The Third Story
 
Oh we do not deny it: we just avoid it. Though
it shadows over all like a vast mountainside.
After Greek and Roman tales, the Holy Scriptures,
this, then, serves as your faithful guide.
 
What was it that happened? One should know. When? And how?
So often recounted! Job wrote it long ago.
in the ether spins every lethal shot.
Would it not be better not to hear, not to know?
 
And you cannot escape, in vain are you successor,
it’s mere blind good fortune to be saved or condemned.
Outrage is sleek oil – it overflows, inundates.
And you just keep speaking to me of them, of them.

Translated by Thomas Cooper
 
Previously on HLO

Tags: Zsófia Balla