by ada

For today I planned to visit the Dead Library, an exhibition of Centrális Galéria, but I was after a wrong number so I didn’t find it. After completing three circles around the whole block without noticing anything that bears at least a slight resemblance with a gallery door, I got nervous and decided to leave it and take a walk instead. So happened that I saw the sculpture of the famous and very good Hungarian poet, József Attila, who was suffering from schizophrenia, which made him committing suicide at the age of 35 and who is one of the favourite poets of mine. You can read the English translation of some of his works here and here. There are some nice jobs amongst the translations, but, well, Hungarian language is Hungarian language. It has a beauty and athmosphere that is just impossible to give back in any other language. Even Shakespeare is more beautiful in Hungarian than in original.

4 Comments to “365/68”

  1. I would love to use this photo too. I have a poem popping into my head as I look at it.

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