Two years

This is a poem written by my grandfather Apja (pronounced up-yuh). Unfortunately I can't find the original. Two years refers to the time he spent as a political prisoner.

Those blasted kids were again seized
All running at me: Apja, what did you bring?
I just stood there at the door
Already, my neck carried three or four
They reached my pockets, trampled my shoes
My case was quickly emptied flat
Trousers torn, hand snapped at
And all in a chorus, were shouting:
“Apja, what did you bring?”

Give them the grim look? But the beasts,
They well know: I can't wait for the evening
To get home, flooded by their noise
Filling every corner of my soul
With their buzz and bluster,
A rot bathing in life-giving water
The crippled body touched, enlivened
Making me healthy, quick and fresh

But, wishing to heighten the scene,
I shout, cruelly: "I brought nothing!"
And a beat in their small chests is missed
But their fright suddenly lifts
As Kisdombi, like a bull stirred
Stops, lifting his four-year old head
And stubbornly cries: "Oh yes, you did!"

His look cuts through my heart
While with his voice he chides
There's even contempt, that their father
Would swindle his own son or daughter
And now all the younger kids
Join him in shouting: "Oh, yes you did!"
I reach into my pockets, and search until,
I give myself up, and shout: "I brought indeed!"

Yes, but sometimes it wasn't a ploy
I brought nothing to quench their thirst for joy
Lost in my troubles and strife
I badly injured their hearts

They stand. "Oh yes, you did", carrying on in solid belief
Each one, another blood-sucking monster
"You did bring!" and they almost slobber
At the thought of a sweet in my pocket
They watch, faces exhausted
Voices go mute, lips in a quiver
Yearnful faces growing ever longer
And Kisdombi cries out: "Bad Apja!"

It was all long ago.. and I must think
Will they still shout: "Apja, what did you bring?"
Can we continue life from the point
It was so ruthlessly stopped?

I dream: I enter and the wild gang
Jumps on my neck, amidst laughs and cries
Kismagdus too, who was still in nappies
When I left her, not to see her for two years;
And now she dances round me, inquisitive,
Seeking to find who this hairy, big-nose is
And the rest can't but laugh:
"Who else, silly, but Apja!"

Will it be so? If only but!
For painful reasons, they will just
Stand there and cry
It dawns on them, the life
Full of joy, being no more
Only now will they guess what they've lost
Their bodies shaking with disgust
And in their eyes, two years of trouble and anger
As they squeal out the truth: "Bad, bad Apja!"