I produced a list of the six most popular basic themes to be found in lyrical poetry, ranking them, as I went along, in order of frequency. These were the candidates: 1. You are beautiful and I love you; 2. You don’t love me; 3. I don’t love you; 4. I am immortal; 5. Carpe diem; 6. The changes of the seasons.
Name? Hungarian history. Nationality? Hungarian, he screamed, and it sounded as if hundreds of virgin cadets were swearing in. Could you say it a bit less loudly, I ask him. So he whispers like a dying person: Hungarian. Then I say, couldn’t you just say it naturally? Like, Hungarian. But that’s too difficult. To be natural. To pretend that it doesn’t hurt, that it doesn’t vex; that it isn’t annoying, isn’t too tight. Hungarian. That’s what there is. And that’s enough. Too much even. Too little.