The Eighth Hungarian Tribe, 1985 (12. évfolyam, 1-11. szám)

1985-10-01 / 10. szám

EIGHTH

VOLUME XII, NO. 10

HUNGARIAN

HUNGARIANS IN AMERICA

■ $15«

I T I rISSN M7MM1)

TRIBE

OCTOBER, 1985

TO A STORK A gólyához

TOMPA (Mihály) Michael (1817-1868)

(This allegorical poem was written qfter the defeat of the 1848 — 1849 Hungarian War of Independence.)

The air becomes mild, the field brightens And you are here again, good bird, good stork. You repair your worn-out nest Where you will rouse your fluffy issues.

O go back, go back! Don’t be deceived by enticing sunrays and crying creeks!

Go back. Go back! There is no Spring here;

Life is frozen, has grown numb.

Don’t walk in this field, the graveyard is there; Don’t wade into the lake, it’s flooded with blood. Needing rest, on the roof of the tower, you might slip into slow-burning cinders.

Better move far away from my house to where you can build a firm nest, to where you cannot hear despair and will not fear the lightning.

Go back, go back! Your Southern Isle awaits you. You are much luckier than we, good bird,

Though you by Fate have given two countries;

We had only one and it is lost, all is lost.

Fly, fly South, and if somewhere You see the emigrants, tell them, please!

We are ruined, we are lost

like loose sheaves, we are scattered.

Many in graves; many in prisons.

Those who live, walk sad and speechless.

There are people who get fed up and move To a new country over the ocean.

The young wife does not pray correction of her barrenness.

Parents shed no tears for their dead children. The old folks say that they are glad Their wait for the grave is not long.

Tell them, scandalous as it is, it is

Not enough that we were cut down like oak.

In cut oak there lives the worm;

Citizen is spying on citizen.

Brother against brother, son sells father;

But do not tell this horrible tale.

Someone who cries about our situation Might be disgusted with this nation.

Translated by Leslie Könnyű Transversion by Sharon Hanson