Kosztolányi Dezső: Az apa
Az apa (Magyar)
Mily gyorsan távolodsz a nagy időben
The father (Angol)
How fast you move away with passing time
from me, my son.
At lunch you’re nervously rising from the table;
you vanish, you run.
You read the paper when I speak,
give brief replies.
You are with friends. Your room is empty.
My soul is empty.
You don't see on my face my fumbling love.
You do not notice me.
My strident voice is horrible to you.
Heavy is my hand.
Your mother became my only friend again.
With her I speak.
I quietly mention our wanton age.
So you won't hear it.
This is how I had left my father, too.
He went this way as well.
With a heavy sigh, proudly, cursed,
not glancing back.
Oh, this solitude the old one so resembles,
when you were not alive.
Mornings cast ashes upon my head,
the noons are grey.
At evenings in the garden I watch the sky,
the trees, the foliage,
and ask myself: why does the fruit not
understand the trunk?