Magyar Hírek, 1985 (38. évfolyam, 2-26. szám)

1985-12-28 / 25-26. szám

ABOUT THIS ISSUE

GYULA ILLYÉS

Prompted by answers received to a round robin our journal attempted to throw light on the subject of Hungarian identity from various angles. The account is printed in the Hungarian part of the present issue. Quoting the thoughts of Hungarians living at home or abroad, the paper endeavoured to define what being Hungarian meant in the past and means now, what kind of conditions and resources are needed to maintain an awareness of belonging to the Hungarian people and what help can be given by this country to those abroad.

Pál Rónai, a poet and translator, domiciled in Brazil, considered language as the essence of Hungarian consciousness. Nurturing the Hungarian language and the Hungarian traditions besides learning the language and customs of the country of sett lement constitutes the two most important factors of the awareness of being Hungarian according to Rónai. Everything that is helpful in that—the careful use of the language in speech and writing, reading, listening to records, watching films, ongoing links with Hungary thanks to journals, and the radio, operát ive Hungarian associat ions, of Hungarian institutes at universities, from time to time a trip to Hungary, the organization there of summer lecture courses, camps, it all contributes to the nursing of a Hungarian consciousness. And the present regime in doing its bit to the best of its ability, Rónai argues.

Miklós Káldor — Lord Kaldor — the British economist, wrote: “1 grew up in Hungary, I was educated there, 1 used to roam the hills of Buda, that’s where my friends had their homes. You can’t put things like that out of your mind. Naturally, it all made its mark on me. I believe there is no city in the whole wide world as beautiful as Budapest. 1 very much enjoy my visits to Hungary. Unfortunately, the number of old friends keeps on dwindling. To my mind it does not pay to invest too much in maintaining a Hungarian consciousness. Those who want to keep a hold of their Hungarian identity, will do so anyway, those who do not will not . Of course if people are invited as guests of Hungary they will go on remembering they are Hungarian.”

Victor Vasarely, the painter, wrote: “The idea of being Hungarians naturally means much more to a Hungarian, who was horn there —even after fifty years’ absence — than to foreigners, even remembering that present day travellers offer most sympathetic accounts of their trips to Hungary ... I know the history, literature, art, and the beautiful folk art of Hungary, which deeply influenced me. As far as I am concerned, there already exists a Vasarely museum in Himgary, in Pécs, my native city, indeed in the house in which I was born, and the Zichy mansion in Budapest is being restored right now to get it ready for a permanent exhibition of some of my works which I donated to Hungary.”

This is what Ephraim Kishon, the noted Israeli humorist wrote who

recently made his home in Zürich: “What Hungary means to me is my native language, the schools I attended and a unique sense of humour.

I could also say, my youth. Nothing brings me closer to my Hungarian roofs than the publication of my books and the performance of ray plays in Hungary. 1 make a point of visiting Himgary on these occasions.”

There is also a Hungarian in Hungary among those whose answers are printed. Gyula Fekete, the writer, remarked that the reputation of Hungarians changed a lot. It has not been as good as today for a long time. “The maturing of democracy, the liveliness and the success of Hungarian economic policy in some respects as weil as the achievements^ of Hungarian agriculture play a majorrole” he writes. “But the Hungarians scattered all over the work!” Gyula Fekete adds “who are in one way or another also representatives of the universe of Hungarians in their new home, in their new environment, are also changing our renown in the world. Their contribution to the current image of Hungarians formed by the world has been most important. They did their bit to produce this favourable turn of events, and that was no mean thing.”

“1 am convinced” Fekete emphasises “that self-imposed isolation of any sort is harmful. The preservation of the values carried by the universe of Hungarians is a thousand tunes more important than antagonisms and differences of views. The representatives of contemporary Hungary also best serve the cause of the universality of Hungarians if they do not subordinate survival, preservation and transmission of the values to past antagonisms and differences of views . . . The building, cherishing and maintenance of the relations is the first condition of the preservation of the Hungarian identity. These relations could be much improved. Books, particularly literary works, could do most; the efficiency of the printed Hungarian world multiplies beyond the borders of the country. But a good selection of tape recordings and video cassettes can also be helpful in the preservation of the Hungarian consciousness.”

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This issue will reach readers in the festive season. Some of the extra pages were used to publishing works by living writer's and poets in the Hungarian section, giving an opportunity to readers to spend part of their leisure time during the Christmas — New Year season reading new Hungarian writing.

In the Hungarian Scene you'll find “The Wreath”, a poem by Gyula Illyés, who died a few years ago, in a translation by William Jay Smith the American poet. I believe it is impossible to speak more beautifully, more movingly about the essence of the Hungarian identity, than this!

I wish all our readers a Merry Christmas and a Happy and Prosperous New Year!

ZOLTÁN HALÁSZ

THE WREATH

You can no longer

soar. And yet you blaze,

wind-slit Hungarian tongue, sending

your snakelike flames along the ground, hissing

at times with pain,

more often with the helpless rage of the humiliated, your guardian angels forsaking you.

Again in grass, in weeds, in slime.

As through all those centuries, among the stooped peasants. Among

the tight-lipped old, keeping their counsel. Among

girls trembling under coned reeds as

the Tartar hordes swept past. Among

children lashed together

while mute Ups shaped their words,

for the Turks, if they heard a sound,

would bring whips down in their faces.

Now you show forth

truly — and to me as well — your use,

your pedigree, your coat-of-arms, the stone-biting

strength in your veins.

Language of full ive smiles,

of bright tears shared in secret, language

of loyalty, lingo

of never-surrendered faith, password of hope, language

of freedom, briefly-srmtched freedom, behind-the-pr ison-guard'’»-back-freedom,

language of master-mocked shoolboy, sergeant-abused rookie,

dressed-down plaintiff, of little old ladies boring clerks,

language of porters, odd-job hired men, being a language

of the no-good-for-the-factory, no-good-for-test-passing proletariate,

language of the veteran stammering before his

young boss; testimony —

rising from depths even greater

than Luther's - of the suspect

beaten up on arrival at the station;

language of the Kassa black marketeer, the Bucharest servant girl,

the Beirut whore, all calling

for mother, behold your son, spittle

on his rage-reddened face,

master of many tongues,

held worthy of attention by other nations

for what, as a loyal European,

he has to say:

he cannot mount any festiv platform, cannot accept any wreath,

however glorious, which he would not, stepping quickly down, carry over to lay at your feet, and with his smile draw forth, on your agonizing lips

your smile, my beloved, ever-nurturing mother.

(1972)

TRANSLATED BV WILLIAM JAY SMITH

Gyula Illyés in Tihany

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