Ervin Lázár is the creator of a genre we may safely call
Central European folk surrealism, which takes on the quality of a
hallucinatory exploration into that part of the soul where beauty, hope,
and yearning live in close proximity with the harsh realities of life.
There are several authors today in Hungary who describe the erosion of the village way of life, which runs parallel to the destruction of the countryside. Some do it with the passionate tone of a prophet. Háy's voice in The Kid is that of quiet desperation.
Captivity was a conscious emigration into the great events of a great era. Our world here, the world we were socialised into, is a small and shabby world. Being part of a small nation is usually not favourable for great prose and drama.
Six poems from a new Attila József volume in English, published by Green Integer Press (Los Angeles). The book, titled A Transparent Lion, was edited and translated by Gabor G. Gyukics and Michael Castro.
But what became of the Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani,
my friend... what of your mouth odour and evil thoughts, the acrimony of your
chastity, dear chap, caro mio Giorgio; what became of the precious
desire for vengeance; what kinds of insects did the Creator pluck out
from that?—that is something a Hungarian is curious about.