Arany János - Győrei Zsolt (szerk.): The trill of the nightingale (Budapest, 2019)
III - „His voice, once fine and heady, still a grumble deep” - In the Good Old Days (Mark Baczoni)
In the Good Old Days No more honey in the churn, in Its belly, grasses grow An old bear, the weight of the world On 'im moves to and fro His voice, once fine and heady, still A grumble deep, mellow: Eh! 'Twas all so diff'rent then, when I had my youthful glow. Buzzing bees still made their honey, But never did they sting! The strawberries and raspberries Used to bear fruit in spring. The winters, too, were shorter, I Seemed to see the tender thaw Come to relieve my suffering In the lick of a paw. The hunters' guns had no barrels, And rangers had no stick, Back then, my old brown fur was still In so much finer nick. In forest green and meadow, too, I would gambol freely; Full of native majesty, I Used to ramble fiercely. There were not all these nests the trees To clog up, encumber; Owls hooting in their high hollows Woke me from my slumber. Their regal choir's song was rich, full Of such sweet noble poise - This endless tweeting nowadays Is so much empty noise. Grudgingly, unwillingly, I'll Put up a while longer, Measure sparingly my wisdom For the world to ponder. But if it will not listen to The moral of my tale, Then with a great big old bear's yawn, I'll swallow it wholesale!
