SZENTE B. LEVENTE

 

All Animals

 

all animals spoke the same way, as did man, too,

they heard and understood the tone, the colour,

in it the question and the answer, that which had passed,

that which came and that which came about, at the same time

the speech of all men is the same,

only their tongue differs, only they understand and interpret

the multitude of tones and colours, in them

the questions and the answers, in a different way

their hearts also beat as one,

their blood fizzes and boils as does that of the animals,

he believes that he became civilized,

I wonder, did he understand it all?

 

Translated By Kery, Leslie A.

 

On The Margin Of Crossroads

 

when man saw a dream,

and thought he understood the world,

on his ways he got to know colours, and already

saw everything in black and white, mainly

because he smeared blood like sacrifice on his reflection,

and kept on saying he had connections with something      

older than religions themselves -

and he walked around, saw, heard, then

declared views,

all of the kind

that weren’t allowed to be pronounced for long,

that from a spark fire should flare up,

but alas, in his faith there

- like drifting stones and rocks in wild rivers -

have hardly any real traces been left.

but as others’ truth he cited if needed perfection,

for the world’s been like that, since in the world’s eyes the land

like the image of other skies was reflected.

because one can never get ready for the new world, he said

god be with me, with you, neither with, nor without you.

better this way, forebear’s the same, space up there, carcass down here,

for one should but kiss, love to the heavens,

give everyone their share, bite when the pain’s there,

go, make a move at last, into a hug

gently rush, before it would come to an end -

oh, how many things, how very much still to be done.

but above all to remain human,

or become one. for all times to come.

 

Translated By N. Ullrich Katalin

 

Quietly Like Beautiful Words

 

quietly like beautiful words,

villages disappear, wells dry up,

also the tears,

and lakes.

 

like dusty roads under our boots,

trees grow wild in the garden,

psalms will cease,

and evening prayers, too.

 

on cracking bricks of abandoned houses

a lace of moss, bindweed and wild flowers appear,

man’s not merely one

hope for being embraced.

 

all things are quiet memories, like beautiful old words.

the child within us grows up.

the photos remain in boxes.

our names will be silence, sighs, woes.

 

Translated By N. Ullrich Katalin

 

SZENTE B. LEVENTE

 

SZENTE B. LEVENTE (Szörényvár, 1972) Árpád Papp – Búvópatak Prize-winning poet, writer, local history researcher. Since 1994, his poems, tales, and writings resulting from cultural and local history research have been published in several Romanian, Hungarian, and other countries magazines, anthologies, and internet portals. He is also listed as the author of 16 independent volumes in encyclopedias and Wikipedia. Knight of Hungarian Culture. Member of the Romanian Hungarian Writers' League (EMIL) and the Romanian Writers' Association. He has lived in Székelykeresztúr since 1979, and has lived in Csekefalva since 2025. (Harghita County, Romania). His latest volume: The Light Under Your Head Has Fallen Asleep (poems – AB-ART Publishing House, Budapest – 2024), Elfengarten (fairy tale – Fairy Garden. translated by Kornélia Dohmen, United P.C. Publishing House, Dtschl – 2025.