Calvin Synod Herald, 1973 (73. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1973-12-01 / 12. szám
REFORMÁTUSOK LAPJA 5 not escape swallowing and sniffing the salty water. When her stomach and lungs were filled with water, the sadistic torturers sat on her swollen body and enjoyed her excruciating pain. At long last, on November 9th, 1944, her hour of liberation arrived: together with several leading dignitaries of Shanghi she was beheaded by the Japanese authorities. Her grave is marked with a marble headstone erected by the faithful islanders. Dr. Cseszkó is buried in an unmarked grave in the cemetery of the prison-camp on the island of Celebes. Appalled as we all must be, we can only whisper our belated, but reverent tribute, in agreement with the Dutch-language memorial article: “Through suffering to glory!” Dr. Kalman D. Tóth ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Scherrer, J.E.E., In Memóriám Dr. G. Cseszkó en mevr. E. Cseszkó-Hadady von Eőrhalma. (Tr. Paul Kovács) D. C., In Memóriám Dr. G. Cseszkó en mevr. E. Cseszkó- Hadady von Eőrhalma. (Excerpts tr. Paul Kovács) Van de Beek, Mrs. Gerald, neé Emma Cseszkó, Letter, 1972 Van de Beek, Mrs. Gerald, neé Emma Cseszkó, Taperecording, 1973 NEW PETŐFI TRANSLATIONS The translator of these Petőfi poems, MR. LÁSZLÓ TEHEL of Washington, D.C. started out as a poet in his own right when as a 17 years old high school student, he published a small volume of poems in his native Székesfehérvár in 1912, entitled: “Az én világom.” He never published a volume again, but wrote numerous poems of high merit which were published in various Hungarian periodicals. In the first World War he was a First Lieutenant of the 17th Honvéd Regiment of Székesfehérvár, and spent the last few months of the war in an Italian prison camp. We are happy that in this Petőfi jubilee year we are the first to publish these excellent translations in our paper. Edmund Vasváry ^JremLÍeS f7le (ßnil by Sándor Petőfi Trembles the bush, because Little bird flew on it. Trembles my heart, because My love quivers in it. My love quivers in it, Pretty little maiden, You the dearest jewel In this earthy eden. Full is the blue Danube Up to inundation, Full is my heart also Of sweet, warm emotion. Do you love me, sweetheart, As indeed I love you? Even your parents can’t Love you more than I do. When we were together Your love was a-glowing There was hot summer then, Now cold wind is blowing. If you do not love me Anymore, God bless you. But if you still love me, Thousandfold should bless you . . . Translated by László Tehel by Sándor Petőfi _Ji ^Jroulfina Stressinci fJhouqht - JJave . A troubling, stressing thought have I: In bed, amongst pillows to die. To slowly fade as flowers in the field, Wormeaten, sickly and never to yield. Shimmer away as candle into doom, Forgotten in a forlorn, empty room . . . 0 hear me God, I humbly pray, Do not let me thus pass away. 1 shall be tree, struck down by angry lightning, Or rooted out by raging, deadly wild wind. Or be a cliff that by worldshaking thunder Hurled from the peak to the valley down under. . . When every slave can see the way To rise and throw his yoke away With feverishly glowing face he goes on, Bearing a red banner, on it the slogan: Give us liberty!.. And it will shortly Echoed and re-echoed from east to west, Compel tyrant to clash with the oppressed. There should I be killed On the battlefield. There should my young, bleeding heart cease to be pounding And when my lips last glad word will be resounding, It should die away by the steel’s shattering, Trumpets’ blare and barking field guns’ clattering... And snorting horses Tramp on my corps, as They are galloping to the goal, to the glory, Leaving me there lifeless, crushed and muddy, gory ... And when day breaks for the grand funeral With solemn death-march, mournful burial, Gather my broken bones, scattered around, Hide them in black flag, lay them in the ground In common grave with braves who so gallantly Gave up their lives for you, freedom, liberty! . . Translated by László Tehel
