a verse translation of a poem by Jenő Heltai — Said the woman: “My hair is silk, Darker than the darkest night, And my heart throbs with love’s Effervescent delight. You have my body, and my soul, In your arms' comfort I feel whole. I am yours, and I am happy…” Then said the man: “The Other, she left me.” …

“Quick, mobilize the scrubs…!” — Before creative juices can flow and take flight, I must wage battle with a tinge of stage fright My muse from behind her formica station proffers her well-rehearsed verse of inspiration “Behold the vessel!” seal, label and all … “Now off you go, Sir, third door down the hall!” Emboldened…

icy relations — by Joe Váradi The penguin and the albatross used to be friends, now they’re cross. “There’s no doubt here who is greater,” brags the mighty aviator. “I’m the emperor of the skies, while you’re down there, treading ice!” “Is a bird that cannot fly a real bird? — Please clarify …”…

a verse translation of “Különbéke” by Lőrinc Szabó — As an angel would the devil, at first it was the rich whom I hated and cursed; And later, everyone. I grew to hate And resent Man, his pedestrian faith, His reason, his truth, his dreams, All that he conceitedly believes, His affectations and indentured brain, His wise and foolish drive to explain, Each, and everyone. Then time…

Don’t worry if you’ve never heard it — by Joe Váradi In the Summer of 2004, Tibi Kiss, the guitarist-frontman for alternative rock band Quimby, came out of rehab after 13 months of treatment for drug addiction and depression and penned the greatest song of his career, spawning a wave of innovative covers around the globe. The song…

a pair of poems by Domokos Szilágyi — Transylvanian-born Hungarian poet, writer, translator Domokos Szilágyi (1938–1976) lived through war, ethnic oppression, illness, and ended his own life rather young. He was survived by his son, Attila, who perished in the 1977 Bucharest earthquake. Confession As a child I dreamed up my grown-up life, as a grown-up, I dreamed of my…

a verse translation of a poem by Sándor Petőfi — How many-eth glass was that?… the Fifth, perhaps? The Almighter’s judgement, well, it too, can lapse. I can handle twice as much, on any day: But today the fifth will lead my legs astray. My legs sway, and my tongue stumbles aimlessly - My throat, like the straits of old Ther- po-mylae, Ledo-nias, wine…

a children’s verse translation — Chatterbird a poem by Noémi László, translated by Joe Váradi Little songbird, where did you fly, Cross my garden high in the sky? Over here, over there drinking in the dewy air, over there, over here, dizzy currents drew me near. Little songbird, where did you go, Cross my garden swooping down…

just, wow — Fisherman’s Bastion Szentháromság Square, Castle District ⋆⋆⋆⋆ ½ Between the Danube and the Deep Blue Sea A worthy monument to this proud seafaring nation! [Note from the Editor: Hungary is a landlocked country, as it has been for much of history, except for brief stints during the Middle Ages and the era…