William Penn Life, 2000 (35. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)

2000-10-01 / 10. szám

in the street manners, the meetings and half-hearted greetings, the handshakes and the alarm of the weak hand in your palm,

he's there when your loved one's face turns suddenly to ice, he accompanies you to tryst or rendevous,

not just to the grilling but to the cooing and the billing, in your words of love he'll appear like a dead fly in your beer,

because even in dreams you're not free of his eternal company, in the nuptial bed, in you lust he covers you like dust,

because nothing may be caressed but that which he first blessed, it is him you cuddle up to and raise your loving cup to,

in your plate, in your glass he flows in your mouth and through your nose in frost, fog, out or in he creeps under your skin

like an open vent through which you breathe the foul air of the ditch and he lingers like drains or a gas leak at the mains,

it's tyranny that dogs your inner monologues, nothing is your own once your dreams are known

all is changed or lost, each star a border post light-strafed and mined; the stars are spies at window bars,

the vast tent's every lamp lights a labor camp, come fever, come the bell it's tyranny sounds the knell,

confessor is confession, he preaches, reads the lesson he's Church, House and Theatre the Inquisition;

you blink your eyes, you stare you see him everywhere; like sickness or memory he keeps you company;

trains rattling down the rail the clatter of the jail; in the mountains, by the coast you are his breathing host;

lightning: the sudden noise of thunder, it's his voice in the bright electric dart, the skipping of the heart

in moments of calm, in chains of tedium, in rain that falls an age, the star-high prison-cage

in snow that rises and waits like a cell, and isolates; your own dog's faithful eyes wear his look for disguise,

his is the truth, the way so each succeeding day is his, each move you make you do it for his sake;

like water, you both follow the course set and the hollow ring is closed; that phiz you see in the mirror is his

escape is doomed to failure, ou're both prisoner and jailer; e has soaked, corroded in, he's deep beneath your skin

in your kidney, in your fag, he's in your every rag, you think: his agile patter rules both mind and matter

you look, but what you see is his, illusory, one match is all it takes and fire consumes the brake

you having failed to snuff the head as it broke off; „ his "vigilance" extends to factories, fields and friends

and you no longer know or feel what it is to live, eat meat or bread to desire or love or spread your arms wide in appeal;

it is the chain slaves wear that they themselves prepare; you eat but it's tyranny grows fat, his are your progreny

in tyranny's domain

you are the link in the chain,

you stink of him through and through,

the tyranny IS you;

like moles in sunlight we crawl in pitch darkness, sprawl and fidget in the closet as if it were a desert,

because where tyranny obtains everything is vain, the song itself though fine is false in every line,

for he stands over you at your grave, and tells you who you were, your every molecule his to dispose and rule.

Gyula Illyés

(tr. by George Szirtes) Iffff |

llilliani l*enn Lile, October 2000

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