You think you’ve seen it all.
The desert is sizeable, anything can turn up,
baby hair, mining camps,
sunscreen, breastfed mutants,
literally, a projected sunset,
beach chairs forgotten outside,
et cetera.
How far away is that toothless gas jockey,
the one who foretold your wailing loneliness.
It was written all over his stupid face,
close up.
But you, at this crucial turning point,
couldn’t bear to pay attention properly.
What is more than an hour and a half
is nothing for you.
Your eyes beheld the empty square,
the sand-whipping winds,
you thought this was already lying beyond.
Beyond the signal strength, naturally.
Ach, what an obscene cliché!
Suddenly everything speeds up.
You backpedal, the repetition
weakens you, tears you apart.
How can I look into the mirror
if after all this I abandon you at a run.
There is no alternate ending.
We launched this project with the support of the Kult Minor - Fund for the Support of National Minority Culture. Its aim is to translate contemporary Hungarian poetry in Slovakia into English. We want to create a virtual anthology of contemporary Hungarian poetry in Slovakia.