By Miklós Radnóti

Contributor note: ahead by way of Győző Ferencz

This booklet includes the total poems in Hungarian and in English translation of Hungary's nice sleek poet, Miklos Radnoti, murdered on the age of 35 throughout the Holocaust. His earliest poems, the six books released in the course of his lifetime, and the poems released posthumously after international battle II are incorporated.

There is a foreword through Győző Ferencz, certainly one of Hungary's leading specialists on Radnoti's poems, and accompanying essays through the writer on dominant topics and routine photographs, in addition to the relevance of Radnoti's paintings to Holocaust literature.

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Költő: Irtam, mit is tehetnék? A költő ír, a macska miákol és az eb vonít s a kis halacska ikrát ürít kacéran. Mindent megírok én, akár neked, hogy fönn is tudd, hogy’ élek én, mikor a robbanó és beomló házsorok között a véreres carry fénye támolyog és feltüremlenek brain, rémülten a terek, a lélekzet megáll, az ég is émelyeg s a gépek egyre jönnek, eltűnnek s ujra mint a hörgő őrület lecsapnak ujra brain! Irok, mit is tehetnék. S egy vers milyen veszélyes, ha tudnád, egy sor is mily kényes és szeszélyes, mert bátorság ez is, lásd, a költő ír, a macska miákol és az eb vonít s a kis halacska— s a többi… És te mit tudsz? Semmit! csak hallgatod a gépet s zúg füled, hogy so much nem hallhatod; ne is tagadd, barátod! és összenőtt veled. Miről gondolkodól, míg szállsz fejünk felett? Repülő: Nevess ki. Félek ott fönn. S a kedvesemre vágyom s lehunyva két szemem, heverni lenn egy ágyon. Vagy csak dudolni róla, fogam közt szűrve, halkan, a kantinmélyi vad és gőzös zűrzavarban. Ha fönn vagyok, lejönnék! s lenn ujra szállni vágyom, nincs nékem már helyem e nékem gyúrt világon. S a gépet is, tudom jól, túlzottan megszerettem, igaz, de egy ütemre fájunk fönn brain a ketten… De hisz tudod! s megírod! és nem lesz majd titok, emberként éltem én, ki such a lot csak pusztitok, ég s föld között hazátlan. De jaj, ki érti meg… Irsz rólam? Költő: Hogyha élek. S ha lesz még majd kinek. 1941. április 27. moment ECLOGUE Pilot: We traveled some distance final evening, and that i cackled with rage because the interceptors buzzed overhead like a swarm of bees, then took pot-shots at us, yet our protection was once strong and our reinforcements confirmed up over the horizon. They nearly picked me off and swept the ground with me, yet I’ve come again! And I’ll go back back the next day, and cowardly Europe will simply need to move slowly into its cellar… yet besides, I’ll permit it opt for now! have you ever written in view that the previous day? Poet: I did, what else might I do? A poet writes, a cat mews and a puppy howls whereas tiny fish flirtatiously scatter their roe approximately. I write down and rfile every little thing, only for you, so that you can understand how I’m doing down the following amid your bomb-bursts, whereas among the crumbling homes and bloody carnage the moonlight staggers approximately and the terror-stricken fields curl up because the nation-state holds its breath, and the sky is ailing to its belly with disgust and your planes preserve coming, and vanish in basic terms to come back like a death-rattle, then break their closed fists down once again! I write, what else am i able to do? A poem is risky, and when you purely knew how one whimsical, smooth line, even that takes braveness, see, a poet writes, a cat mews and a puppy howls whereas tiny fish— yet then you definitely understand the remainder… however, what do you actually comprehend? not anything! you simply take heed to your engine hypnotized, your ears humming, then you’re deaf; don’t deny it, my pal! For i'm your dual. What are you taking into account while hovering overhead? Pilot: Promise you won’t snigger. I’m terrified up right here. And lengthy for my love and to shut my eyes and stretch out in my mattress.

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