ISTVAN
DABI
WHO IS STRANGER IS
ALSO WRONG
on the streets of
the big towns
crowd multitude of
vehicles
noise clamour
inquiring looks
search the
stranger
who often becomes
invisible
and isn’t noticed
more
the figure dressed
differently
he can be not only
from an other country
but also from
another planet
on these streets
but the moment he
sits down
on the only bench
of a little park
children surround
him
look curiously at
him
touch his clothes
finger his hand
and face
and run away
laughing
soon the whole
town knows
a stranger is
sitting on the bench in a little park
he is in all
different
has different
features
his skin has
different colour
his clothes are
different
he is for a long
time
only an unknown
stranger
whom can be given
a curious stare
soon he will be
forgotten
amindst the own
problems of the big town
but when somebody
becomes suddenly unwell
somebody is killed
the stranger comes
in mind
and everybody
begins to fear him
because he’s
different
and the different
can be only wrong
for he isn’t like
the others
because his skin
his hair
his eyes
have an other
colour
he is thinner than
who live here
he is taller than
who live here
he is fatter than
who live here
he is shorter than
who live here
doesn’t know their
language
it means he can be
only wrong
everybody fears
him
the children look
at him not curiously
but with fear
the adults with
hatred
with more and more
hatred
the police hardly
saved
the lonesome
creature
sitting on the
lonely bench of the little park
he isn’t a human
more
but an unknown wrong
evil creature
and the police
defends not him from
the raging men
but them from him
though he came
here only
for studying the
town
its inhabitants
their language
and customs
but being
different
he had to escape
from
the crowd getting
wild
from the fear
XXX
from the love
often
hatred comes into
the world
furious hatred
who knows
if this hatred
gives again
life to a true
love?
xxx
I came home from
another continent
without big
suitcases
as if I came
only from the
neighbour town
nobody believed me
that I have
everything
what I saw
what I heard
what I felt
because in my too
little head
I find place for all
what I consider
important
ISTVAN DABI
(Hungary)
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