by Attila Jozsef ( English translation by Pieter)

I’ve seen, My Lord, your mountains;
And I’m so small, I feel.

I’d like to be big, somewhat like you,
To be able to sit on your doorstep, My Lord.
I’d place my heart there,
But how could you like my tiny heart?
Among the throbbing of your huge mountains
Its weak stutter gets lost;

Why can’t I much nicer,
As the mountains and the grass,
Under my bed, sorrow sleeps:
In their heart beautiful, green fires burn,
So that tired beetles can find their ways home,
As night is falling,
And You, with open palms,
Among calmness plashing to its knees,
Stand at the end of their way-

I wouldn’t bother You, My Lord,
You are looking over our little flowers.
weak stutter?
plashing to its knees?

I don't understand them.
Very nice beginning and ending.
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Maj, don't try to understand evry line or thought. For instance Dire Straits sings :"... It never rains around here, it just comes pouring down..." I don't get what they want to say, but it's still lovely.
Your are right this poem is lovely.
I haven't hear one of their songs for quite a long time.
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