Calvin Synod Herald, 1994 (94. évfolyam, 2-6. szám)
1994-05-01 / 3. szám
CALVIN SYNOD HERALD- 3 -REFOMÁTÜSOK LAPJA Székely Lamentation By Eugene Szedenits Above Transylvania dark clouds descending Tears of Mary Tözsér in her deepest grieving, tier only son taken as soldier Romanian much to her heart's sorrow; no end to requiem. Ho news from him ever, endless is her waiting, Transylvanian Gate witness of her wailing. Her frail body shivers in Fall's gusty windswept as under the old Gate in deep prayers she wept. Tears are constantly shed as pearls of a torrent lips from fervent prayers maliciously rend. Far-far away carried by her mind's illusions, her soul travels down to Duna-Delta regions. Unwritten letter comes to imagination : "Dearest Moth er of min e" reads the salutation. "Your kindness knows no end", thus continue the lines, "Ho worries over me, no languishing of pines." "Before the snow falls yet on the Danube's Delta I will be home again in Transylvania." The letter imagined brings forth tears by hundred as holding her Bible mother's hands are clustered. Season after season comes, goes and passes by, Soldier-son is killed dead under Delta's blue sky. Born in Transylvania, Paul Tözsér was his name. To Romanians just "Hobo", "Tramp" by a rude game. "Székely" he really was, “Hunno- Ugorish" race, Ho "oláh" words favored his mind, heart a bit trace. Magyar songs on his lips, "Erdély" his innermost, till assassinated by knife and gave up his ghost. Wooden-coffin his lot, tightly sealed and firmly closed, through crevices and holes his true "székely" blood flowed. Bloodred covered like paint the fresh, white snow wrapper, underneath the green grass was ready to gather. In the Carpathian wild winter was raging on his hometown under silvery snow spraying. Among slender pine-trees behind the "Székely-gate" dear mother stays awake waiting son's return date. Her eyes are weary-worn, rosy cheeks are faded, on forehead deep furrows by intense grief graded. Her head now bent down enters into deep sleep, rush light did extinguish, wild wind out increased. In snow-white apparel comes the early morning, Székely mother wakens with heart in sad mourning. Heart broken she gazes on approaching black van, on the wooden coffin with the snowy wrapper. My God! Whose is the corpse? Why do they come right here? Mother's heart turns to woe from uncertain blind fear. Companion arrives in dark visage of Fate, the bird of death gave screech perching on "székely-gate". All the bells are tolling in small church's belfry Mary Tözsér's spirit whimpered to Lord in plea. On the bier there lays dead the apple of her eye, Lord! Your heavenly angels watch over, see and guide! King Attila's descent hundreds of years later, Let him now enter into Heroes' Haven! Take him to Prince Csaba on soldiers' marching Way, you Golden-eyed Angel keep eyes on him alway! (Hungarian on Page 12. Translation by Editor.)
