Under attack

In 1848 Hungary was fighting for her independence with cannons, guns, and swords. 163 years on (not too long, if you think about it), the weapons have changed. But anyone with a pure heart can only wish the same: a life in dignity and liberty.

When in 1849, Hungarian prime minister Lajos Batthyány was about to be executed for his part in the struggle, he wrote to his wife: "bless the children and kiss them for me, let them not be ashamed, for they should not be ashamed of their father, the shame of my death will -- sooner or later -- fall back on those who have killed me in injustice and ingratitude". Thus it will be with the character assassins of the current Hungarian prime minister (or indeed of any decent person).

The title of this poem is Life or Death. It was written in 1848 by Sándor Petőfi, one of the greatest Hungarian poets of all time. This is an excerpt (first two verses). Original.

From the Carpathians to the Danube
An angry cry, a violent storm
With straggling hair, and bloody forehead
Stands the Magyar, all alone.
Had I not been born Hungarian
I'd still treat it as my place of birth
Because it's forsaken, the most forsaken
Out of all the nations from the earth.

Poor, poor people, my orphan nation,
Why have you been left to die?
Why do god, the devil, and all their henchmen
Seek to destroy your tree of life?
And why with angry hands do they tear
At the green leaves in angry glee,
Those, who for centuries had rested
In the shade of this great tree.

Leaf

How long 

Have I been pining for

That leaf, that tasty leaf

But the

Leaf curls away

Since I am a slug, an ugly slug

And with

Every move, the leaf shrieks:

For what it sees, is a ball of pus

I will be old...

Lighting by Gyuri Baglyas, of Beyond Budapest.
Taken after a long walk with him in the Budakeszi forest.

Finale, by Lajos Áprily. Original.

Unfortunately I couldn't find video link to Kaláka playing it to music.

i will be old, older than the winter sun
my mood dark and my hair white
and like a stream quietened at its mouth
the blood will slow down in my weary heart


when night befalls with dew-cool, i will tremble
the strife that whizzed past fails to warm
and if I attack, I miss the jump
like wolf Akela, of the jungle born


i wait only for silence, and a glum envoy
and fall back into the hazy cave
while a band of young wolves runs to a hot clash
and in their honour, the forest resonates

Little lions

Kinga was telling a story to Leo this evening, using a filmstrip -- once a staple of storytelling in Hungarian households. Below is the last slide:

And below is a translation (Lion, by Sándor Csoóri) to commemorate it. Original.

Small lion, big lion
On a run, or at a lie-in
Small lion is round and whole
Happy when it gives a howl.

A look back on this year

     Év végi számadásunk           A look back on this year

   Gyöngy Kinga           Kinga Gyöngy   

Nagyot fordult velünk az élet idén,           Our lives turned around this year 

   mikor megszülettél,           when you were born;

egyik pillanatról a másikra           from one day to the next     

váltunk szabad madarakból           we stopped our free flights   
                     végleg szülőkké.           and built a birds' nest.          

Nagyot fordult velünk az élet idén,           Our lives turned around this year
                                  a születésed, s           your birth, and then soon after,
  nem sokkal rá dédid halála           your great-granny's death 
megmutatták, hogy néha           showed that sometimes,
                                         minden perc számít.           every minute counts, every single breath.

Nagyot fordult velünk az élet idén,           Our lives turned around this year
   mikor egy este           when one night
               szoptatás közben           while you were being fed

csörgött a telefon,           the phone rang,   
                   hogy eltörött a papád válla.           "your Dad broke his shoulder," it said.

  Nagyot fordult velünk az élet idén:           Our lives turned around this year:
       doktorandusz-mamádként           as a doctoral student mother
                          szeretném, ha délután           I'd prefer it if you slept in your bed
      az ágyadban aludnál.           but you prefer my arms
De te inkább a karomban alszol.           as a pillow for your head.          

Nagyot fordult velünk az élet idén:           Our lives turned around this year:
          szerelmi háromszögbe           entangled in a love triangle
       gabalyodva tanulunk           we learn to live together.
 családként élni.           You're now        
  Belénk ivódtál örökre.           part of us, forever.        

found on an electronic post-it note

A poet's a poet
For as long as he stays
True to his nature
True from world's plays

He'll be pretty imperfect
Rough, coarse plenty a time
But no mask should he bring
To the carneval of lies.

I tie my horse...

 Many people will recognise the melody of this folk song from a modern adaptation, "Ha én rózsa volnék" (If I were a rose). However, even the original lyrics have many variations. What is common is the first verse so I will stick to translating that. Also, it's the verse I like the best. Original.

My horse I tie with rope to a weeping willow

My heart I tie with kisses on a flow'ry meadow

I untie my horse, as the moon alights

but from you my violet, only death unbinds.