translation of a poem by Gizella Hervay — My first time seeing that wash basin up on that rack, chrome flaking off the dome of the sky, the rack under the wash basin spoke up in the universal language of poverty: “washed the clothes in that sad blue basin, chrome chipping off the sky, turned cloud-white, she rinses, amidst endless wails she lays out her ragged…

verse translation of a poem by Sándor Petőfi — (1845) About My Bad Poems Don’t think I could always Write good poetry? Yet my heart’s main virtue Is philanthropy. Indeed!... if I always Were to write good verse, What would my poor critics Be left with to curse? From time to time, they too Need some frivolity, For every bit of trash They gulp down with…

a tautogram poem —

a dreamy verse translation — a poem by Zsuzsa A. Túri, translated by Joe Váradi Spring Spring- Beginning Flows- Lifegiving Gentle waves and Waterfalls Splashing dreamy Sunlit walls, Stretching, hoping Raw pitfalls: Sweeping currents Present and Past, Into magic Vortices cast, Swept away fast: Your soul’s mirror Translucent, Or Tired, Ashen Every surge Tells tales of living, Every droplet Wisdom-giving, If you take your Fate in your hands, It will wash out Your riverbanks…

a verse translation of a work by Júlia Szendrey — (written in 1856) All my thoughts, my intuitions Took to feathered flight, Left their birdcage open and they Scattered to the night. Do not wander off and leave me ‘bandoned, all alone, There’s no friend there to await you, No welcoming home. Where will you go, you will find no Heartfelt…

“Truth be told, you fucked me, proper” — a verse translation of a poem by Judit Ágnes Kiss Aria of Regret My dear nation, my everything, You never said my well-being Hinged upon my staying with you, Neither did I swear I’d stay true, That I’d live and die at your will, Under your blows, just remain still, As our toxic co-dependence Quietly fades to putrescence…

a cinephile listicle — Water is the essence of life, and in times of need, when the human body is exposed to the harshest of elements, a gift of water is indeed a gift of life. Water itself, then, whether in its natural state, as a river or lake or puddle, or served up…

a translation of a poem by Zsuzsa A. Túri — I. Been blind for a while now. The air is thick. Short of breath. Yet within me something sparkles, burns bright, I cry quietly, because Pisa is far. I could not fly, hence stretching from my mind’s staircase I brought the skies down to them, the planets, so close, I could have wound the rings of Saturn around my fingers, if I wanted. Noise…

a verse translation of a poem by Sándor Petőfi — “Mother, you say that an ephem’ral Hand colors, nightly, our dreams; Dreams, the windows through which The eye of our soul the future sees. Mother, I also had a dream, Unravel its meaning, would you mind? I sprouted wings, and flew over The atmosphere, the great beyond.” ‘My precious boy…