Attila József

Attila József

Hungarian poet
11 April 1905 — 3 December 1937

Follow this author

 TimeFavorites

You know the poet never lies,
he`s either truthful or he dies.

I love you
like a room likes light,
like a soul its flame,
like the body peace.
I love you
like the dying love life.

Mankind is not yet grown, I`m saying.
But he aspires, and thus he`s wild.
His parents - thought, and love undying -
may they watch over their lost child.

The battle which our ancestors once fought
Through recollection is resolved in peace.

No field of victory, nor servile rope,
but a soft bed will be my end, I hope.
When, come what may, the inventory's done,
I died of life - I'm not the only one.

He only is a man, who knows
there is no mother and no father,
that death is only what he owes
and life's a bonus altogether.

My heart sits on the twig of nothing,
its little body shivering, dumb.

Desire - and all concede it -
kills all who are not dead.
But happiness, you need it
as you need daily bread.

That which your heart disguises
open your eyes and see;
that which your eye surmises
let your heart wait to be.

All you arrive at in the end
is a sad, washed-out, sandy plain,
you gaze about, take it in, bend
a wise head, nod; hope is in vain.

Accept

We use cookies to personalise ads and to analyse our traffic. We also share information about your use of our site with our advertising and analytics partners. By using our site, you accept the use of these cookies. See details