Arany János - Győrei Zsolt (szerk.): The trill of the nightingale (Budapest, 2019)

II - „dead bark burning in a hole” - Ach! ...(MarkBaczoni)

Ach!...

Ach but what has come over me That stops my usual scribbling?

Despite a sharpened pen in hand,

I keep sitting here and quibbling.

My thoughts are like a winter bird Whose wings are frozen up with ice Hopping along on cold, bare earth Not soaring up to paradise.

Oh, blandness has me prisoner - A trader counting out his part;

And I, too, sit and calculate;

But tell me, where, oh, where's the heart?

I find myself now taking stock Wondering what is best to do;

With two ways to skin just one cat,

I do so truly wish I knew!

Should I gather up my papers And throw them out while they're still new? Or wait, and write, and then burn them Only after I'm good and through?