An outstanding figure in twentieth century Hungarian poetry, Sándor Weöres (1913-1989) was no more than fifteen when the eminent composer Kodály set a poem of his to music. He was a wizard of versification from his adolescence, and became a Proteus of poetry with the years. His collection of shorter poems named Patchwork is like a kaleidoscope showing him at his best as a conjuror of widely different moods and feelings with a colourful scenery and a diversity of musical forms in verse. Many pieces therein have become immensely popular among the youngest readers, and set a model for other poets how to write poetry for children.

 

 

 

 

 

Sándor Weöres

FROM THE REEDS AND FROM THE DUNE

From the reeds and from the dunes
Water Palace sends its tunes,
inside, on a mossy stone
King Oong sings his song -

and the meadows and the moat
listen to his merry note,
grass and flowers and butterflies
bow and dance along


LULLABY, LULLA, LILY

Lullaby, lulla, lily,
lulla-lulla, mallow.

On the moon-lit road,
on the star-strewn road,
two dogs trudge along the
stony, windy road.

Lullaby, lulla, lily,
lulla-lulla, mallow.

Asks the dog with flapping ears:
"Lily, lily, where is it?
Asks the dog with snubby nose:
"Mallow, mallow, where is it?
Lily here, mallow there,
blue beads in a case of velvet,
deep in sleep they chase a hare.

Lullaby, lulla, lily,
lulla-lulla, mallow.


WERE I, WERE I A TIT

Were I, were I a tit,
in winds I'd float,
in floods of dazzling light
I'd sing my note -
At evening-tide
I'd always fly back still
for crumbs and corn
to mother's window-sill.

Were I, were I a wind,
I'd always blow,
I'd haul at coats and hats
both high and low -
On summer nights
with moonshine on the trees
I'd quieten
on my dear mother's knees.

Were I, were I a star
up in the sky,
my yellow light on woods
and fields would lie -
But oh, then I
would ever live above
And always weep
without my mother's love.

PEEWIT CHICK IS SLEEPING

Peewit chick is sleeping
'mong the oozy reeds.
Peewit chick, oh listen,
night is chasing me!
I have no refuge, see,
have no nest like yours.
Peewit chick, oh listen,
night is chasing me!

NIGHTS OF AUTUMN

Nights of autumn
glow in a junipery
glow in a junipery
grove.
Thistles whisper,
wind is a calamity,
gives to the juniper a
shove.
When the moon lowers
its white veils,
turns it into a
girl that wails.
Nights of autumn
glow in a junipery
glow in a junipery
grove.

TINY SNAKE

Tiny snake
twisting, coiling
on a bough.

"Violet-
headed
tiny snake,
kindle my heart,
strengthen my loins!"

Tiny snake
twisting, coiling
on a bough.


SLOWLY PACED THE TOAD OF STONE

Slowly paced the toad of stone.
Slowly paced the toad of stone.
Midnight's hairs were torn and clipped,
morning's skin was flayed and stripped.
Slowly paced the toad of stone.

Translated by István Tótfalusi