Baka István: Winter road (Téli út in English)

Portre of Baka István

Winter road (English)

Winter road.  The snow makes squelching sounds
Beneath the mist-felt boots of God.
Flighty moments stiffen into days
Along the roads he trod.
My boots are holed. Tongue of the slush
Is tasting me, it tries to find appeal -
Would I for packs of freezing death
Provide an evening meal?
Crows about me. Gaping yellow beaks,
They move like needles and they start
Stitching side-buttoned shirts of seeding rows,
Then angrily, they take them all apart.
Mother Russia's breast begins to show
With tell-tale blotches of cadaver grey,
Her bely rises like a kurgan mound,
Expanded by the gasses of decay.
Winter road. Loud is the squelching snow
where God walks, takes his ease.
The land... a blanched mouth and its kiss
clings to the boot soles with the freeze.

Uploaded byP. T.
Source of the quotationL. A. K.