A sors jobbra-balra rángat
Míg süti a hold pofánkat
Kertünkben nem állít magának palotát Kubla kán
Mert mi csak zöld taknyok vagyunk
Sokasodunk, szaporodunk
S szétkenődünk tüsszenetként a busz hideg ablakán
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Who am I?
- Lone Poet
- Who am I? It's a question I ask myself time to time. I've come up with different names for myself. I was a preacher, I was a king, I was Misery Incarnate... but eventually I'm no more and no less than a lone poet, buried alive, waiting to be excavated. To be loved. I live for the moment when everything is all right.
That's all folks
- My poetry (28)
- in Hungarian (9)
- Drebbles (5)
- by my Flame of Inspiration (1)
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3 comments:
aha... :D
That's too weird to translate, and also has a little connection with an old Hungarian poem, so... :D
i didnt ask for a transltion :P :P
ahahahhahahahahaha :P
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