ADY, Endre

Hawk Mating On The Fallen Leaves

Up. Up. And onward into Autumn fly

In shrill pursuit and raucous hunting cry

A pair of hawks with summer-weary wings.

Summer has bred new pirates in her care

And fresher pinions flutter down her air

To join the lists of Love which now are wide.

We fled from Summer, now ourselves pursued,

Till somewhere sometime in an autumn wood

We stooped with fluttered wings for very love.

This is our final mating. Now the keen

Talon on feather tears the quick between

And so we fall together with the leaves.


Behold My Treasures, Darling

Behold my treasures, darling,

they are less than a Biblical farthing,

behold the fate of a true and faithful life,

look at my grey hairs departing.

I didn't wander afar

sadly I was proud to be a Magyar,

and I got a misery, woe, misfortune

and I have reaped troubles galore.

At loving I was pretty good

couldn't be outdone even by a God

as I conceived of it as a child.

Look at me now, in pain, blood, and fever defiled.

If you hadn't come mt way

my lamenting mouth would have nothing to say

behold the mockers of integrity

sending me into the coffin.

Behold me with your love, my darling,

it was you I found while fleeing,

and if there's a smile left in this loathsome world

you are the smile of my heart.

Behold my treasures, my darling,

they're less than the Biblical farthing,

let them be dark and youthful to you,

look at my grey hairs departing.

The Lost Rider

We hear the blind and aimless galloping

Of an errant rider from the days gome by:

The shackled souls of sunken forests moan

As ancient marshes waken with a sigh.

Where here and there the thickets, coppices

Are choked in patches, densely in a strife,

The spectres of the ancient wintry tales

Are now awakened to a sudden life.

Here are the thickets, here the coppices.

Here are the dismal tunes of bygone choirs:

They have been hidden in a murky fog

Since martial times of our grim, gallant sires.

Dreary and haunted are the autumn days,

The people numbert less and always less;

And on the hill-surrounded swampy plain

November walks encloaked in foggy dress.

The naked plain begins quite suddenly

To nurture reeds and marsh of rotten trees,

Concealing its November foggy self

In gloomy mists of bygone centuries.

Nothing but blood, nothing but mystery,

Nothing but pressures, forefathers mystify;

Nothing but forests, marshes, reeds and canes,

Nothing but madmen of the days gone by.

The errant rider from the long ago

Follows the path along the recent swale;

There is mo light, there are no burning lamps,

There are no villages along the trail.

The villages are mutely slumbering,

Freezing they dream of bygones in their lair

As from the foggy thickets rush and fun

The bison, wolf and, ragingly, the bear.

We hear the blind and aimless galloping

Of an errant rider from the days gone by;

The shackled souls of sunken forests moan

As ancient marshes waken with a sigh.

Life Terrifies Me

Holy ecstasy-swans on great glad Waters

Seize me, but in vain.

I hear the gaggling of sensible ganders,

Nothing can remain,

There is nothing to last.

I hear my future faltering sobs

When I'm still smiling,

And when dark ravens are cawing in my soul

A chirpy starling

Will cheerily chime in.

My longings frighten me. Fulfilment follows

And I'll feel defiled.

I dread contentment. Behind it storms the steed

Of passion, the Wild.

Oh, life terrifies me.


Because you love me

Your eyes are mirrors

of blessed marvels,

for they have seen me;

you are the mistress,

the cunning woman

of the caress.

A thousand times blessed

are you as woman,

for you have seen me

and looked at me.

Because you love me

I also love you,

because you love me

you are the woman,

you are the fair.


I guard your eyes

With my old man's wrinkled hand,

with my old man's squinting eyes,

let me hold your lovely hand,

let me guard your lovely eyes.

Worlds have tumbled, through their fall

like a wild beast chased by fright

I came, and I on you did call

scared, I wait with you inside.

With my old man's wrinkled hand,

with my old man's squinting eyes,

let me hold your lovely hand,

let me guard your lovely eyes.

I do not know why, how long

can I thus remain for you -

but I hold your lovely hand

and I guard your lovely eyes.

Christ-cross in the forest

Snow-covered Christ-cross in the forest

On a vasty, moonlit winter’s night:

An ancient memory. Once, sleigh-bell

A-ringing, I chanced to pass that way

On a vasty, moonlit winter’s night.

My father, then still young and carefree,

Sang when he looked on a crucifix.

True scion was I of my father,

Who, sickened by graven images,

Sang when he looked on a crucifix.

Two pig-headed Magyar Calvinists,

Just like Time we paused not as we flew.

Father and son: a Yes and a No,

There we sat together singing and

Just like Time we paused not as we flew.

Twenty years have passed, and in my thoughts

My sledge flies that way now in the night

And - courtesy that then I paid not -

I now uncover and bow my head.

My sledge flies that way now in the night.

Blood and gold

Same are to my ears the pants of pleasure

And the rattling of pains untold,

Dripping of blood and clink of gold.

It is a dream, I know, that this is All,

To no purpose all else we hold:

The blood and gold, the blood and gold.

Death comes to all, in time gone will be all,

Fame, song, rank and wage will be gone.

Yet lives the gold, the blood lives on.

Nations collapse, then regain their measure,

Saints are the brave, who're like me: bold,

And keep professing: blood and gold.


I want to be loved

I am no heir, no proud ancestor,

I have no friend, no brother, sister,

I have never belonged,

I have never belonged.

I am, like every human: Highness,

Iceberg, enigma, strange and timeless,

Distant will-o'-the-wisp,

Distant will-o'-the-wisp.

But, oh, I can't remain unspoken,

I have to bare myself wide open,

Behold me, everyone,

Behold me, everyone.

In all self-torture, in every song,

I want to be loved, to belong.

Belong to somebody,

Belong to somebody.

I cannot come to you

Is summer nigh?

Each fool has his summer over here,

and I shall die.

Do you protest?

You are my great love, sacred madness,

and I shall die.

Oh songs, oh songs –

Others will go on with will and pleasure

and I shall die.

Caressing arms,

perhaps you yearn for me no longer,

and I shall die.

My path, my fate –

All my life has grown sad and awkward.

And I shall die.

Alone by the sea

Seashore at twilight. Hotel room. Evening.

She's gone from me. I shall never see her.

She's gone from me, I shall never see her.

But on the old bed, she's left a flower.

Crying, I stroke the spot where I found it,

crying I stroke the spot where I found it.

Still, the room treasures her body's fragrance.

Joyful, beneath me the waves are breaking,

joyful, beneath me the waves are breaking.

Somewhere a beacon flares through the distance –

come to me, love, for the sea is singing,

come to me, love, for the sea is singing.

I listen to the fiercely singing sea

and lie upon the aging bed and dream,

and lie upon the aging bed and dream.

She loved me here and gave me all she had –

Never again, sing the sea and the past,

never again, sing the sea and the past.