Arany János - Győrei Zsolt (szerk.): The trill of the nightingale (Budapest, 2019)

III - „His voice, once fine and heady, still a grumble deep” - The Nightingale (Peter Zollman)

I shouldn’t stray, I beg your pardon. — The centre of our scenery,

A handsome, ancient walnut tree Is pride and joy of Peter’s garden.

A branch reaching across the border Is wisely kept by neighbour Paul As are the walnuts when they fall In accordance with Nature’s order.

And it passed, one Sunday morning That the songster of our title Settled on that branch, so vital To our story, without warning.

He whistled from that common branch A philharmonic avalanche:

Thanking God this lovery morn,

Life, the great joy to be born,

And to give His daily due Praised the scented breeze, the dew, Thanked Him for the radiant sun,

For the new day just begun,

Thankfully his tiny breast For his mate guarding the nest,

All that’s outside in the world And inside the little bird,

Thankful that this grace and light,

So glorious — It’s obvious —

Is his own,

His alone,

Made for him for his delight!

As farmer Peter heard the hymn And happy feeling stirred in him He uttered this almighty yell:

“Upon my word,

How very well

You sing to me, my little bird!”