Paul Sohar

 

 

 

          FOUR TRANSLATIONS FROM THE HUNGARIAN
 

STREET FAIR

by JŠnos Lackfi

How much homelessness and homeyness drifts

                  along with the evening

We should use gloves for hygiene when steadying

                  those who cling to life

Look how even in summer some old folks sport

                  protective cotton on their hands

Touching all those greasy and caustic surfaces

                  can corrode the skin

How many sights throw colorful but thin pancake

                  batter in our faces!

Whoís shaking that chrome cocktail shaker

                  where bubbles ascend to heaven

                  as the balloons of our breath?

Where does the wild catapult of the bus kick us

                  with its iron boot?

Why do I dice my gaze into the soup?

Isnít it better to swirl on top of it as a droplet of fat?

Copyright © 2003 JŠnos Lackfi and Paul Sohar.  All Rights Reserved.

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