Dear Ms. Kati Svaby,
Wonderful poems. I was trying to write my comments on your beautiful post. Please accept my excuse, I had to catch some submarines lately. LOL
I’ll have to take a lot of time to read them. And I haven’t read all of them yet. I want to give you my compliments first. Autumn passed through Paris is a kind of poem I dream to write. Amazing. I’ll write soon again. Now, I have a spaceship to catch.
kind regards.
Kyaw.
****, and Live life to the fullest.
Dear Mr. Kyaw,
Me also love very much “Autumn passed through Paris” when very rarely I read it I feel as I would be in Paris. Unfortunately I can put only those poems which had been translated by a professional translator. It is very difficult to translate poems. Our Hungarian poets used to translate lot of very famous poems. The translator has to have an instinct for the poesy, hasn’t he?
Regards:
Kati Svaby
Dear Ms. Kati Svaby,
I love, I’ll be a tree and Twenty Years Later as well. I feel them as myself in it. What a shame I haven’t read all of them yet. But I surely will read them all. As you know to READ a poem we need a fine time.
By the way, where’s your photo with Venus smile. I miss it.
Kind regards.
Dear Mr Kyaw,
This Hungarian poet was in a great love with this woman. But his love was an unrequited love. The woman’s name was Gina. Of course when we learned this poem we loved it, because the 16 year-old girls know what means an unrequited love.
His love didn’t pass away and when he had met this woman after 30 years, he wrote a really very beautiful poem to her. It’s very moving and shocker. It seems incredible that a man could be in love only with one single woman. Its title: 30 years later. I can’t find its translation probably it isn’t translated.
I try to translate for you only. I copy here the Hungarian poem , perhaps somebody who can speak in Hungarian, can translate it into English.
Vajda János:
Harminc év után
Mi hátra volt még, elkövetkezett.
E földi létben gyász-sorunk betőlt.
Találkozunk - irgalmas végezet!
Utólszor, egyszer még, a - sír előtt.
Hittem, hogy lesz idő midőn megösmersz
S helyet cserél bennünk a fájdalom;
És folyni látom, majd ha már késő lesz,
A megbánásnak könnyét arcodon.
Mert amit én vesztettem, óriás.
Hozzá az ég adott erőt nekem.
Én látok itt olyant, mit senki más;
Csodákat művel emlékezetem.
A múltból fölmerül egy pillanat,
Mint óceánból elsüllyedt sziget;
És látom újra ifjú arcodat,
Mikor még másért nem dobbant szíved.
És e varázslat rád is visszahat.
E lélek a te Veszta-templomod.
Oltára képében látod magad;
Mi vagyok én neked, most már tudod:
Ha majd e földi élettől megváltam,
Imába, dalba foglalt szerelem
Örökkévalósága a halálban . . .
Az ég, ládd, mégis eljegyzett velem!
Ki bájaidból méltatlan vadakra
Pazaroltál nem értett kincseket;
Én, a hideg bálvány vezeklő rabja,
Ki minden kéjt szívébe temetett:
Most itt ülünk, siralomházi lelkek,
És nézzük egymást hosszan, szótalan . . .
Tekintetünkben, hajh! nem az elvesztett
Az el nem nyert éden fájdalma van.
Így ül a hold ádáz vihar után
Elcsöndesült nagy tornyos fellegen,
És néz alá a méla éjszakán,
Bánatosan, de szenvedélytelen,
Hallgatva a sírbolti csöndességet
A rémteli sötét erdő alatt,
Amíg a fákról nagy, nehéz könnycseppek
Hervadt levélre halkan hullanak . . .
Regards:
Kati Svaby
Dear Ms. Kati Svaby,
Thank you…
How kind of you to do that for me. I really love poems since I was a kid. But, I have no talent for this much of noble work. Still, at least I’m a good reader. You may notice I sometimes post Tagore’s poems which I adore. Of course, I know well about unrequited love and one sided love that I used to have on the girls who married some lucky guys. You know, it feels really romantic. Looks a bit stupid, though. LOL.
A merry Christmas and a happy New Year to you, my lady.
with kindest regards,
Kyaw.
P.S>>> Hungarian words seem really hard. Oh dear…
Hello Mr. Kyaw,
I heard “Rabindranath Tagore’s most beautiful poems are those he has written in his original Bengali language which he did not bother to translate into English in spite of being a gifted English writer. The Nobel Prize-awarded Gitanjali is his most famous book.”
If it is true we can’t read their most beautiful poems, than we can’t read the Hungarian ones neither.
Can you read them in Bengali ?
When I said that I try to translate it, it means that without rhymes, rhythm etc. I hope I won’t make a damage in it. Only I try to give back his feelings. He was a very good poete but he wasn’t a giant poet than, Ady, Petőfi, Attila József, Dezso Kosztolányi, Mihály Babits, Árpád Tóth. I think he was in the second line. But these poems are really beautiful. In the grammar school we had to learn them by heart.
Regards:
Kati Svaby
Dear Ms. Kati Svaby,
You know I was born under socialism. Everything is rare and scare under socialism. That you may know. Luckily Burma’s socialism was not that severe. I mean I didn’t have a chance to read good poems of the west until now. As for Tagore’s poems we have competent translators here in Myanmar, even in English thanks to the British. Most of Burmese are highly educated. You may know U ( Mr. ) Thant, late Secretary-General to the UN ( 1961-1971 ) is a Burmese. We have our academic lecturers and experts all over the world thanks to our long standing diplomacy and education.
I chanced to read Tagore’s in Burmese. Of course not in Bengali . Bengali is quite different from Burmese, I assume. I think, our speaking style is a bit like Chinese , and literature is derived from Sanskrit ( India ). Our culture has been modified throughout our milleniums old history.
I have Tagore’s poems downloaded in pdf and sometimes I post them in the forum.
If one is familiar with literature he can feel poems. Otherwise, he may not like it.
I’m pleased that you love poems too.
Kind regards.
Live the life to the fullest.
Hello Mr Kyaw,
I’ve just read history of Burma. I knew U Thant of course, then the Union of Burma’s Permanent Representative to the United Nations. But I never knew that there was socialism in Burma.
“Between 1974 and 1988, Burma was effectively ruled by Ne Win through the Burma Socialist Programme Party (BSPP),[44] which from 1964 until 1988 was the sole political party.” - from Wikipedia.
I prepared to read your history but I didn’t do it. But I’ve just read it. So your sentence was a great surprise to me. You were born under socialism. Socialism in Burma? I never heard about it. Can I ask in which year you were born?
Today I couldn’t begin the translation. I had a hard day. I find it an exciting task.
Regards:
Kati Svaby
Thanks to you:) It’s vey interesting to read the Hungarian poems in English:)
…but the best I like to read them in original, in my native language:)
one of my favourite is from:Petőfi Sándor: Szeptember végén (from my childhood I like it)
Dear Maryjam,
I agree with you, " the best I like to read them in original, in my native language:) "
What do you think how many people could read them in Hungarian. I think the most foreigners haven’t the faintest idea what a beautiful poems we have. Of course I could put on only ones that had been already translated by professional translators. If you find somewhere good translations you put them on this thread.
I send to you your favourit poem affectionately:
internetszerelem.hu/cikk/pet … ber-vegen/
I wanted to you send a you tube also but one is worse than the other. I think it is the best.
youtube.com/watch?v=BX-pMJl83R0
Regards:
Kati Svaby
Dear Ms. Kati Svaby,
I was born in 1959. We had socialism. Much milder socialism. To tell the truth, everyone enjoyed it actually. Everything was almost free.
My dear friend, don’t let yourself trap in today’s media. They are just selling things.
The truth is… When everyone depleted the wealth of country, having almost everything next to nothing in the time of socialist government under General Ne Win ( he is genuinely a patriot, a good leader as well ). Everybody made him a dictator. In 1988, he resigned in impulsive left the country alone. Like a impulsive father abandoned the house. Then there come the opportunists, so called politicians and national leaders. None of them are even true politicians yet. They all are just the frogs in the rain. In general Ne Win time nobody truly interested in any politics. Everybody was having a good time. Free house , medical, electricity, food, transport, education everything was almost free then. We enjoyed them in great pleasure, when we used up everything we put the blame on the socialist government and a the government put the blame on Gen. Ne win, the leader then.
Gen. Ne win was very intelligent and patriot in fact, later he became a dictator thanks to the his comrades later who brought him down. ( Who is the real culprit? )
Thanks to Gen.Ne Win’s impulsive resignation, later come the opportunists in hoard.
There is a saying they didn’t even dare to fart in front of Gen. Ne Win. And it was a fact. ( I was the insider and knew the influential )
Here I want to make a point, your kind of socialism, democracy and industrialism things are real and most of them come out of the world wars. We don’t have things like that here in Burma in fact. Nobody is poor or tortured in Burma, like those bad things you suffered in wars in Europe. Or maybe after wars.
Do think quite differently when you think about Burma.
In fact we don’t even know socialism or democracy truly. We, Burmese are free livers, and very lazy people. We just follow whom we think he can give or bring free things. If not he’ll be damned.
We don’t naturally have genuine political belief at all. We believe live well and go well to next life only. We don’t think about any Isms , when it bring money we follow. That’s all.
If one don’t really know Burmese he will get wrong to put his belief on them, and Assume we believe him.
One of the secret of Burmese is We never say Yes or No. We say Yade’ which mean somewhere between OKayyyyyyy.
And one can’t say Burmese are wrong. What to do , we were born as Burmese who believe ourselves come down from the sky. Inflated Burmese. Who are happy to say Okay,LOL.
We don’t really believe in any isms or anybody. We believe in okay, only.
So don’t happily believe the things in media ( Media themselves think wrongly we are on our way to democracy or such, WE ARE USING EVERYTHING ON OUR WAY ONLY. WE ARE THE BURMESE who believe in Nirvana only. So we use generals, politicians, other nations, democracy, socialism, freedom, dictators, every thing, on our way to Nirvana.
So someone who don’t know about Burmese mentality on his plan will be used by the Burmese only.
Well , that’s the story of the Burmese told by a Burmese. ( Not to offend the British., My mother ,73, once told me that the British are most cunning people in the world, but we Burmese are more cunning than the British. )
kind regards.
Dear Mr. Kyaw,
I’ve just read your letter. I can’t help but I have to say first that I was smiling on the first paragraph. Why ? Because I could write the same about our socialism. Word by word.What you had written about your socialism - I and we + 80 % of people say the same about our Socialism than you. The people say that it was a humanistic socialism. After the great poverty, - we can say that the great part of peasants and the working class had lived before the WWII in circumstances of feudalism.Attila József wrote about this period:…and one and half million men tottered out of their country to America…(translated by me)
The capitalism missed from our history.I don’t remember this period but my husband who was 10 in 1945, he remember very well. He often says to me that he remembers better this period than later ones. Our General Ne Win was Jánois Kádár from 1956- the people began to live, increase, everybody has possibility to feel himself/ herself a human being. Now he became in his death a dictator. Who say this? A real dictator!!! The people who lived then, and their children who know the story from their parents about this period weep for the return of a similar period.
Unfortunately this never come back.
I will continue…this is ephemeral answer. This is my first reaction - before breakfast in pyjamas - My answer is similar when you catch sight of somebody and after the first sight you dare tell an opinion.
I would like to make a study of this letter.
Regards:
Kati Svaby
It deeply hurts.
Without-within
from lurking death
(like a mouse frightened 'til it squeaks)
when inflamed
you take refuge
in a woman’s arms, in her lap her knees.
Not just the soft
warm thighs lure.
but you are thrust there by the sheer must too
that is why all
who find a woman
want to embrace 'til the mouth turns white too.
Doubled burden
and doubled treasure
when you love and cannot find your mate
as homeless you are
as helpless is
the wild beast when doing its needs.
And you shall find
no other refuge
though threaten your mother with a knife
and yet there was
someone who would
have understood these words; but refused to be my wife.
There is no place
among the living
creatures for me in this state. Left alone,
my head just whirrs,
like a rattle I feel
in the hand of a child who is left alone.
For and against
what should I do to her?
No shame on me to find just only one
solution, since
an outcast I am
frightened by dreams and dazed by the sun.
Culture
peels off from me
like clothes from others in happy love
but where is it
written that she
should just watch me suffer alone?
Both baby
and mother
do suffer when the child is born
but since
for this song
just cash I’ll get; with shame I am torn.
Come and help!
you little boys, let your eyes
burst where she passes by.
Innocents
squeal under boots
and say to her: it deeply hurts.
Faithful dogs
get under wheels
and bark at her: it deeply hurts.
Women
big with child: abort
and sob to her: it deeply hurts.
You whole and sound ones
fell over and break your bones
and mumble to her: it deeply hurts.
You men,
who have torn at each other for women,
don’t hold it back but say: it deeply hurts.
Horses, bull
who are being castrated to draw the yoke
cry out to her: it deeply hurts.
Mute fish
get caught on hooks under the ice
and gape up at her: it deeply hurts.
All living things
everything, which quivers with pain:
the place where you live, the garden should burn;
with charred bodies
as she falls asleep
come to her bed and yelp with me: it deeply hurts.
Make her hear this
as long as she lives
for caprice, her own worth she has denied
without-within
from the living fugitive
the very last refuge she has deprived.
Translated by Thomas Kabdebo
(I bumped into this poem when I was looking for My country.… I didn’t find it but I found this poem’s translation. It is one of my favourite poems. Once I send it to Facebook, the people liked it, lot of people liked in a few minutes, and the Facebook take off the poem. This was not the first event that Facebook censored my letter /the other people’s also/. This was the last straw, I said good-by to my friends and I wrote to Facebook to delete my name, don’t censor me, or Attila József ?!)
Dear Ms. Kati Svaby,
I just hate the most people’s unfaithful and untrue mentality and attitude.
And those opportunists who use them to abuse true and educated people. Like in 1988 Burmes chopped heads for nothing , mob threaten who don’t shout " democracy, democracy." You know very well what I mean? " Nazi, Nazi, Nazi" kind of things. Then the EU, the USA pressured Burma and imposed sanctions on us. Saying we don’t have democracy in Burma. In reality, we are over democratized. We want everything free only. Not on political background. There’s no single Burmese truly interests in politics at all. Yet we are kind of nationalistic.
If a Burmese says democracy thing to you beware of your pocket. LOL
And the US and the EU who are crazily in need of natural resources using those who shout Democracy as the national leader. No way. An opportunist can’t be a national leader. Their plan will go phut only.
Burma of today’s will never go against China.
We have a very practical saying…" Scared the nearer sword to you"
Can the US and the EU combined can beat China? I don’t think so. In terms of military I mean. In Korean war the Allied ran away from Chinese backed north Koreans.
The US and EU did make very big mistake. Terrible move of a board game. They can’t win back Burma anymore. Burma is slave of China already inside.
They should stop Burma campaign and invest it somewhere more lucrative.
I still remembered former Foreign Minister of the States Mrs. Albright sang DON’T CRY FOR ME CLINTON" in the Asean 10 closing dinner. I was there in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. She failed the campaign to bar Burma from being the Asean member. I was one of the winning members who beat Americans on that campaign of Burma. Foxy Burmese. When American are enjoying the summer and Bordeaux champagne, we, Burmese were digging the deeper hole for the coming severe winter. Recently in Indonesia Obama was praising Burma’s winning for presidency of the Asean. Oh dear… , Poor American. Can’t even beat a little fox and claiming super power. We Burmese are really good at diplomacy, I must say. Thanks to the British. We learned diplomacy from the British. And we drove them out.
So who truly will follow the US and the EU. No one. They will squander the political funds on night clubs and girls only. We are prouder to use greenbacks than practise democracy , here in Burma. LOL.
I don’t want to spoil about your noble topics. I just wrote this long fact to remind your good judgment only. Trust not media.
kind regards.
Trust no media. I mean.
Kind regards.
I don’t use face book, which I believe is a spying kind of thing only. It’s an old spying technique but still useful. ( most of the popular webs are the US spy network only , I assume. )
I’ll read the poems well later.
kind regards.
Gyula Juhász: No more can I recall
No more can I recall her blondness,
But the yellow fields of rich ears
Brought by summers so endless
Remind me once more of how she feels.
No more can I recall her eyes so blue,
But the clear lights of autumn skies
Brought by the blue September hue
Remind me once more of her eyes.
Nor can I recall her voice so mellow,
But when fields in the springtime sigh,
I hear Anna’s soft words echo
From a spring far as the sky.
Translated by: Judit Meződi
Gyula Juhász: Forever Anna
Years coming, years passing and you
Losing hold in my mind. Your face
Fading in my heart. Your shoulders’ curve
Just a blur. Your voice
Left me behind. And follow I did not
In the darkest depth of life.
Already I am calm uttering your name,
Already I tremble not at your glance,
Already I know you are one of many,
That youth is foolish, and still,
Believe not, my love that all was useless,
Believe not that all is gone.
For you continue in all my ties askew,
In all my words misplaced,
In all the greetings wrongly uttered,
In all my letters torn to pieces,
In all my life fully mistaken
You live and rule forever. Amen.
Translated by: Judit Meződi
Dezső Kosztolányi: Necrology
See, brethren, all of a sudden he died.
He left us alone: he lied.
We knew him. Not grand or outstanding,
but filled our hearts, notwithstanding.
He is no more.
He is like earth.
Gone is a dearth
of treasure.
Learn ye all from this example.
Such is man: a unique sample.
No more like him. Not now or in the past,
no two leaves are in the same form cast.
All through time he will be lacking.
Look at this head, the collapsing
lovely eyes. Look at the hands here,
in remote haze they disappear,
stone-stiff
like a relic,
on which cuneiform wedges will bear
the ancient secret of his life so unique and rare.
Whoever he was: light and heat he was.
All knew and proclaimed: there he was.
The way he loved this or that meal.
His lips, on which now there is a seal
said, and as his voice on our ears did fall
we could hear the bells of sunken churches toll
deep down, and as he said recently,
‘Son, I’d love some cheese presently,’
or he drank wine and happily stared
at the smoke of some cheap cigarette,
and he ran and made phone calls,
and wove dreams of all sorts,
on his forehead shone the sign:
of millions he’s the only one.
Find him you will not, to no avail,
not in Asia or Cape Colony or here,
and not in the past either. And future’s whim
will see many born, but him.
Never again
will his timid smile shine again.
The wheel of fortune so poor in turning
will never have this wonder returning.
See friends: all this so frail
like the man in the tale.
At one point life thought of him,
‘Once upon a time there was him,’
then down came the heavens pounding,
no more of him - our sobs resounding.
Like a statue, stiff and numb he rests,
though once he struggled for the best.
No tears, no words: awaken him nothing can.
Once upon a time there lived a man.
Translated by: Judit Meződi
Hello i’ve found you!