Trafika Europe Corner: Three poems by Károly Lencsés, translated by Ágnes Megyeri
Nekem Ne tölts el ostoba reménnyel Ne vakíts el ígérettel A magány igazi, s ha énképem Albumába lesek sok közös fotón ott van velem. Igen. Gyakran pózolok vele. Kéz a kézben járunk. Neked nyűg Nekem lehet más is. Például Társam az örök utazásban ott van velem. Ne hidd, hogy bánom. Egy részem Nem szelektálom. Nem hagyom, Hogy kárba vesszen a sok Kettesben töltött idő, te elmész, míg Ő marad nekem. Végtére is ki mondja meg Mi vagyok. Ösztönös állat. Magamat folyton felfalom, Amit a csonton kívül mindig marad Az a magány. Nem hagy befejezetlenül. Kitölt. Az Ő szemén át a világ letargikus ugyan, De megszokható. Egyedül. Szótlanul. Csodálkozva a világra néma utamon világom Kiteljesedik benne.
For me (translated by Ágnes Megyeri) Do not fill me with foolish hope Do not blind me with promises Loneliness is real and if I peek into The album of my self-image in our photos it is there with me. Yes. I often pose with it. We walk hand in hand. A nuisance for you For me it may be something else. For instance My companion in the eternal journey it is there with me. Do not think that I regret. A part of me I do not select. I will not let waste The time spent in private, you leave, while It stays there for me. Who is to tell after all What I am. Instinctive animal. I keep devouring myself. What is left apart from the bones It is loneliness. It does not leave me unfinished. It fills me. Through Its eyes the world might as well seem lethargic But you can get used to it. Alone. Speechless. Marvelling at the world during my silent journey my world Becomes complete in it.
Nekem (második felvonás) nekem csönd kell, hogy üvöltsek. hogy megértse anyám-apám, hogy rugdosnak. ez olyam csenevész gondolat, mégis szóra traktál az ész. mennyit változtam jó ég! valami hadar bennem késztetést, hogy elmondjam ép szóval kék-zöld foltjaim. megpróbáltam lábnyomomba lépni, könnyűnek tűnt. követni utam. ugyanabba elbotlani. ha valaki bántott az sokkal jobban fájt megint. visszanéznem. ugyan az a kéz rángat. viola ami szemem fellegfátyla. naivan szépnek látni. s ha újra lépek megint a lábnyomomba megcsókolom a kezet s karcolom majd a sárba, hogy engem vezet.
For me (act two) (Translated by Ágnes Megyeri) i need silence for me to howl. for my mother and father to understand that i am being kicked. this is such a scrubby thought, yet the mind makes me speak. how much i have changed, oh dear! something sputters in me an urge to tell my black and blue bruises with unscathed words. tried to step into my footprints, seemed easy enough. to follow my path. to stumble in the same place. if somebody hurt me it was even more painful again. to look back. the same hand is tugging at me. viola the cloud-veil of my eyes. naively see it as nice. and if i step into my footprint again i will kiss the hand and etch into the mud that it is me who is led by it.
Párnacsata (tébolydai közöny) Átkozottak. A bomlás elegáns csiklandó görcs röhög dióbél agy vérér vájta kanyon nem releváns impulzus kitolt csípőt lökésre ösztökél ...összetéveszthetetlen magát kéregető mozdulattal kétrét hajtódik nedves nyelve csapkod egy gyíké tévé köpetet mázol fülből lógó kar hátból kiálló láb hónalj dús szemöldök alatt gyűrött bőr egy kupac magát levedlett ember olyan, akár egy park lopott árnya, amire lapot teszel grafittal átrajzolod egymásba font millió karom holtvirágszirom a bomlás sárgája félig megformálódott cserepes ajkak s a gondolatba dermedt arc állán lecsurog és fluoreszkál holnap nyolckor fényt kap egy repedés pókhálóra gyöngyöket fűz, mert odakinn a világ naívan harmóniára készül a fal tűr, mint ma is s a perc ugyan úgy pereg hajnal vihogás kakaskodás kalapál a helység kockás padlóján... kiseprűz a közöny néhány egymást dörgöli kilövellő ragacsos kéj izzadt démonok vonaglása belül... ...párnacsata
Pillow fight (madhouse apathy) (Translated by Ágnes Megyeri) The accursed. Decay is elegant tingling spasm laughs kernel brain canyon grooved by blood vessel irrelevant impulse thrust hip made to push … unmistakable with a reluctant movement it bends double its slimy tongue whipping belongs to a lizard television light smearing spittle arm hanging from ear leg sticking out of back armpit crinkled skin under heavy brow a heap of men who have shed themselves is like stolen shade of a park, on which you place a card trace it with a pencil millions of claws entwined dead flower petal the yellow of decay half formed parched lips on the chin of the face frozen into thoughts dripping down and fluorescing tomorrow at eight a crack will get the light stringing pearls on cobweb, as the world outside naively prepares for harmony the wall endures like today the minute trickles alike dawn titter cocking hammering the chequered floor of the hive… apathy sweeps me out some rub each other squirting sticky lust sweaty demons wriggling inside… … pillow fight
In Latin, recrudescence means “to become raw again.” Through time, the word has morphed to mean an uplifted sense of starting fresh or entering renewed activity. The root meaning of the word remains; however, many have realized that starting over and becoming “raw” again does not necessarily mean returning to a reduced state.
Károly Lencsés’ poems expose this rawness that can exist for us. The poetic “I” in “For me” shows the company that can be found in loneliness after losing someone in your life, while “For me (act two)” expresses the changing of one yet to be recognized by others stuck in the past. “Pillow fight” provides oxymorons, contrasting decay with elegance and an interior with an exterior, one preparing for peace and the other for further development. Recrudescence seeps through these verses.
Károly Lencsés (1976) is a Hungarian poet and artist who has published widely in various Hungarian literary magazines. He has had two poetry collections published and was recently granted the András Dugonics literary prize. These poems are brought to us in English by translator Ágnes Megyeri.
Recrudescence (TE 25) is set to be published in April 2024. Check out www.trafikaeurope.org to get updates about the publication and our projects.
Read previous posts in The Trafika Europe Corner series:
Trafika Europe Corner: Three Poems by Guðrið Helmsdal, translated by Randi Ward
Three poems by Deniz Durukan – in Trafika Europe Corner II.11 by Andrew Singer
Three poems by Marius Burokas – in Trafika Europe Corner II.10 by Andrew Singer
Three poems by Franca Mancinelli – in Trafika Europe Corner II.9 by Andrew Singer
Three poems by Nina Kossman – in Trafika Europe Corner II.8 by Andrew Singer
Three poems by Alexander Kabanov – in Trafika Europe Corner II.7 by Andrew Singer
Three poems by Andrey Gritsman – in Trafika Europe Corner II.6 by Andrew Singer
Kosovan poet Fahredin Shehu – in Trafika Europe Corner II.5 by Andrew Singer
Three poems from Icelandic by Gyrðir Elíasson – in Trafika Europe Corner II.4 by Andrew Singer
Trafika Europe Corner II.3 – New Latvian poet Jānis Tomašs by Andrew Singer
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