Dániel Varró: Beyond Splodge Hill

FROM THE REEDS AND FROM THE DUNE

Seventh Chapter

In which Janka has an unusual dream and receives a mysterious letter

"There's nothing entirely innocent on earth,
With mere water you can work evil or good."
János Vajda

"Yet another riddle, yet unsolved."
Gyula Reviczky

See you boys, for the seventh time,
Hello to you, my little rhyme.
I confess, you please me, yes, you do!
I love to scrawl you line by line,
What's Harry Potter next to you?
Those kinds of books soon loose their shine.
They're rapidly forgotten while,
You still continue to beguile,
And not with silly hocus-pocus,
What's Muggles or Quidditch to me?
My verse, rather, should fill with glee,
Contending with the greatest opus!
Melodic, rhymed, and clever, dapper
(And not inclined to aimless pratter).

They're rot, these Potters, anyway,
So let me warn you, just in case
You're under ten to stay away,
For heroes, they don't get much space.
Malfoy, the fiendish, Goyle, the brute
The line is blurred between the two,
And You-Know-Who is quite left out,
Who was a lout remains a lout,
To change their ways they're hardly able,
No time to muse or meditate
While action scenes accumulate,
A hurried era's hurried fable,
Quarrying success unequalled!
I just can't wait for the sequel!

So what's become of heroes past?
No footprints left where trod they last?
Ah, where is Legolas, the fair,
And Gollam, Gimli, Glorfindel,
Frodo, the nine-fingered, where
Gandalf, and Tom Bombadil?
And Árnika, the beauteous maid
For whom Poor Johnny had to wait,
His satchel resting on his back,
And where's the terror of all cats,
The supple Vizsla dog named Frakk,
Mirr-Murr, Oriza-Triznyák,
Where Pöszke, Kobak, and Vackor
And all the many, many more?

Where are those brigands, grim and grave,
Though they could hardly scare a mouse,
Where's Kovács now, the roving knave
Who made off with the opera house,
Where that badger, dour and surly,
Toni Traband, mean and burly,
And those Norwegian scamps, the three,
Kasper, Jesper, Jonathan,
And Kaa, Akela, Tabaqui,
Or, adored by everyone,
Eeyore, the pessimistic ass
With his purply-plush long ears,
The vain lion Dandelion, alas,
Where the tales of yesteryear?

Translated from the Hungarian by Thomas Cooper